


The Uncanny Accuracy of Fate

by generalwastedisposal



Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Angst, Foster Care, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalwastedisposal/pseuds/generalwastedisposal
Summary: Camille Beckett and Phillipa Soo have been living only miles apart for years, though their paths have never crossed. It's amazing what a masterclass and a musical can do. One thing's for sure: something brought them together. Who knows, maybe it's fate! (Basically Pippa is an adorable cinnamon roll and is a wonderful foster mom)





	1. Both Sides

  * I've looked at clouds from both sides now. From up and down, and still somehow, it's cloud illusions I recall, I really don't know clouds at all*

   I blearily roll over and grab my phone, silencing the alarm. Cursing the sweet sounds of the song I once loved, I make a mental note to change my alarm before I’m turned off to Joni Mitchell completely. I turn my head, briefly expecting to see Steven’s slumbering figure lying next to me, before the events of the past week all come flooding back.

   Steven telling me he didn’t see a future for us. Me, tearfully begging him to stay. Then the next night, the other girl…with whom it didn’t appear to be Steven’s first time.

  I shake my head a little, physically willing my brain to stop running through the sequence for the umpteenth time. As Renée reminded me as I cried into her shoulder on that horrible night, replaying and reliving these moments was only going to get me further sucked into my already formidable fortress of self-loathing and pity.

   So instead, I was jumping into my newly single life headfirst. For months, I’d been promising myself that I’d go do a masterclass with the Graham Windham kids as part of the Eliza Project, but things kept coming up. When I’d called Cynthia, the Graham Windham arts endowment coordinator, and offered to come in as soon as possible to work with the kids, she jumped at the chance. Morgan (who’d helped me design the program) and I had rented a studio at Ripley-Grier and were going to perform for, play improv games with, and answer the questions of the foster kids who’d expressed interest in our program. Then, the kids would get to see the show tonight and meet the cast afterwards. I’d learned almost too much about the inadequacies of the foster care system through my work with Graham Windham, and I hoped that we’d be able to provide these kids with a day they’d always remember.

   I glance at my watch, realizing that I’d been staring off into space for who knows how long, and jump when I realize I need to be out the door in 10 minutes. I throw on a long sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots, grabbing a scarf and puffy vest at the last minute as I remember how cold I’d been on my way to the theatre the day before. Grabbing an apple from the fridge and the coffee I’d made in my Steven-filled daze earlier, I hurtle out the door only 3 minutes behind schedule.

   Screeching onto the platform, I slide between the doors of the 10:07 train as they threaten to close on my head. Mentally high-fiving myself, I pull out my phone where I have a text from Morgan asking me if I wanted coffee and 2 each from Jasmine and Renée “just checking in!” I may play Eliza, but I’ll always be the baby to those two. Dashing off a quick “No thanks I’m good! See you soon!” to Morgan and telling myself I’ll deal with my sisters concerns later, I get off the train at the 34th St Penn Station stop.

  Morgan, Cynthia, and I cluster around the piano in the corner as Cynthia explains more about the kids we’re going to be teaching today.

   “They’re all incredible kids,” she says, “they’ve just been handed a really crappy lot in life.” Her passion for the program is evident as she continues to speak, and I smile, thinking about how much Eliza would’ve loved her.

   Cynthia leaves to go get the kids from their bus out front, and Morgan and I begin to go over our own game plan. Though we’d both taught student groups before, they’d been primarily at MT intensives or arts schools, and we were both aware of the new challenges that we could be facing with this group of kids. As clichéd as this sounds, I don’t want to let Eliza down, and my heart races as my mind begins to pace through all the possible ways this could go horribly wrong.

   Sooner than my sweaty palms would’ve liked, Cynthia’s back, this time with about 20 kids, mostly girls, ranging from about 11-17 in tow. My heart sinks as I realize that many of these kids may have been in the system most of their lives, and that people’s animosity towards adopting teenagers means that many of them would stay in it until they aged out. The kids file in, clumping in 3s or 4s, with many shooting uncertain glances towards where Morgan and I stand in the back of the room. As I look around with a gaze that I’m sure displays just as much nervousness, one small girl catches my attention. She looks to be maybe 15 or 16, with 2 long dutch braids that hang down well past her shoulders. I notice she’s the only one not whispering in a group, and instead is gazing around the room with a look of awe on her face. As she circles to me, we make eye contact and after a moment’s hesitation, she returns my smile with a hesitant one of her own.

   With newfound determination, I glance at Morgan to make sure she’s ready to go then take a deep breath.

   “Hi everyone! I’m Phillipa, but you can call me Pippa, and this is Morgan!” Clearly noticing the fact that I’m at a total loss for what to say next, Morgan steps in.

  “Pippa plays Eliza Schuyler-Hamilton and I’m a dance captain and swing in Hamilton at the Richard Rogers theatre. So we’ve got some time today and we were thinking we’d play some games, answer some questions, and maybe a few of you could perform for us before you come see the show tonight!” As she says that last part heads turn and whispers started flying.

   We get the kids into a big circle and start with a name game. Cynthia had thankfully thought to give them nametags, but I know opening with something easy like this will help relax all of us. The girl who I had spotted earlier sports a nametag that read “Camille” but she introduces herself as Cami. Noticing she looks anxious, I smile reassuringly at her before instructing everyone to grab a partner.

   The kids quickly split, leaving Cami stranded.

  “Well,” I turn to her, “I guess that leaves you and me!” She looks at me with wide eyes.

   “Woah. I mean-yeah, I guess it does.” I laugh and move to put my hand on her back to usher her towards the front, but she flinches as I reach towards her.

   My heart sinks. Had she thought I was going to hit her? Had someone hit her before? I quickly scan her for any signs of abuse, but her scarf and sweater hides most of her body from me. Morgan’s voice breaks me out of my trance, as she begins to explain the simple mirroring exercise we’re going to do. I try to put the thoughts from earlier out of my mind as Cami and I begin moving together, but my brain keeps conjuring up scenarios concocted from the horror stories I’d heard about the foster care system.

   I keep an eye on Cami as we play party guest, Yes, and…, and Left with the group, but don’t notice any other strange behavior from her. In fact, the girl is razor-sharp, and fast as lightning with her comedy. I try to convince myself that I’d made up the flinch, and that she really had just been about to sneeze or something, and my motion was an untimely coincidence.

   After about an hour and a half, we’ve exhausted our collective knowledge of improv games and answered every question the kids could think of, including one about what it was like to kiss Lin every night from what appeared to be a very smitten girl. I make a mental note to tease him about it later at the theatre.

  “Okay! You’re all going to see me and Pippa tell a story tonight,” Morgan pipes up. “So for the remaining time we have left, I want to open the floor up to you guys. Tell _us_ a story.”

   “Whether that’s through words, song, dance, it’s up to you,” I add. “Eliza’s legacy is the reason we’re here today, so that people don’t stop telling her story. Now’s your chance to have yours heard!” Realizing how preachy I sound, I quickly add, “but no pressure!!”

   After about a minute of uncomfortable silence, a girl named Ashleigh stands up and does what she tells us is a piece of spoken word, but may have just been an excuse for her to say as many curse words as possible while passing it off as artistic vision.

  A couple people perform after Ashleigh, but I barely notice them as I look at Cami. Every time a new volunteer is asked for, she rises almost unnoticeably out of her seat, but never makes it all the way out. After the next performance, a piece of contemporary dance, I decide to give her the boost she clearly needs.

   “I think we have time for one more,” I muse. “Cami? Do you have something you’d like to show us?” She looks at me shell-shocked for a moment, then gathers herself and nods. She gets up and slowly walks to the front of the room.

  “So I don’t have anything I wrote myself,” she begins cautiously, “but this song means a lot to me and I..” she trails off. “I think it’s telling an important story, even if it isn’t entirely mine.”

   She glances at me one more time, then takes a deep breath and begins to sing what I instantly recognize as “Stranger to the Rain” from Children of Eden.

   By halfway through, I have tears in my eyes. She has a sweet voice, but that isn’t what moves me. As she sings

“Orphan in the storm, that's a role I've played before

I've learned not to tremble when I hear the thunder roar

I don't curse what I can't change, I just play the hand I'm dealt

When they lighten up the rations, I tighten up my belt

I won't say I've never felt the pain, but I am not a stranger to the rain”

 

I’m struck for what feels like the first time by the brilliance of Schwartz’s lyrics. Cami’s place in the system is her mark of Cain. Even as I applaud her performance, I can’t help but feel sad that she is so young but clearly has already walked through more than her fair share of “the rain”. Her acting is so raw, so real, that it clearly came from somewhere more than her imagination.

 

   After Cynthia has the kids thank us and they begin to disperse, I approach Cami again.

 

   “That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing that with us.” She looks startled as I approach her, but smiles and graciously accepts my praise.

     “I can’t wait to see the show tonight,” she tells me. “I’ve never seen a show on Broadway before.”

   “I only hope I can top the performance you just gave me,” I say honestly, as she blushes and looks down. “Cami? Can I give you a hug?” I ask. I see something flash through her eyes. Is it panic? Relief? It’s gone too quickly for me to tell, but she nods and walks into my outstretched arms. I feel her relax into me as I hold her close for a couple of seconds before we both let go.

    “I think I have to go now,” she glances over her shoulder at the departing group. “Thank you again!”

    “Thank _you_!” I reply as she turns and leaves. “I’ll see you tonight!”

 

    I watch Cami leave with a weird feeling in my stomach. Why did I already feel so protective of this girl? And what the heck was going on in her mind? I make up my mind to get more out of her tonight after the show.

 

   “I’d say that went well!” Morgan’s stacking chairs, and I quickly run over to help her.

    “Yeah, definitely!” I agree. “We should really be doing more stuff like this with the Eliza Project.” Morgan and I finish cleaning up and go our separate ways, but my mind remains with the girl who’d captured my heart just an hour before. 

 

Boom there it is. This was in my brain and it wouldn’t leave so here it is now for you. Do you love it? Hate it? I wanna know fill me in.  
Did anyone get my Once on This Island reference bc if so who are you and why are you so obsessed with OOTI you nerd (it’s okay me too)


	2. suspicions arise

  I walk into my dressing room at 6:50 to find Renée and Jasmine already putting on makeup and jamming to whatever jazz record Jasmine has chosen as the soundtrack for the night. They’re loudly discussing some detail of Jasmine’s sex life that I honestly did not ever need to hear, and I clear my throat as I put my bag down.

    “Hey Pippa,” Jazzy says, finally noticing my presence. “How was the masterclass?”

    “It went really well! Actually, I met this girl-” I start to say before Anthony (how long has he been in here?) cuts me off.

      “Pippa’s back in the gaaammmeee!” Anthony hollers. “Wait- She? Pip’s going for the ladies now?”

     “Anthony. She’s 16.”

   “Woah. Pips. I know you’re trying to put yourself back out there and all, but do we need to have a little talk ‘bout something called age of consent?” Anthony asks me.

   Pivoting away from Anthony, who leaves, no doubt to go make more jokes about me being a cougar, I address Jasmine and Renée again. “Her name’s Cami. She’s one of the Graham-Windham kids, and she’s so adorable and talented! She sang Stranger to the Rain today and had me in tears. It was a damn religious experience.”

   “Will she be at the show tonight?” Jazzy inquires.

    “Yeah!! I want you guys to meet her, she’s the sweetest thing!”

    “Any idea why she’s in the system?” Renée questions.

   “Absolutely none” I admit. “Actually-” I gesture for them to come closer to me and quietly explain the flinching incident and my suspicions.

   “Shit.” Jasmine eventually breaks the silence.

   “yep.” I echo her sentiments as I sink down onto the couch. “And the worst part is that there’s absolutely nothing I can do. I looked it up and you have to have probable cause to call Child Protective Services, so unless I can get more conclusive proof that something’s going on, she’s on her own. And even if I did get her out, she’d probably just get put in another home that’s even worse.” I stop my rambling, noticing that I’m dangerously near tears.

   “You looked it up?” Jasmine’s looking at me incredulously. “You’ve known this girl for how long?”

   Renée swats Jazzy on the shoulder and sits down next to me. “She must be really special for you to care this much about her. But you know this is out of your control, so please Pippa, don’t drive yourself crazy. Who knows, maybe you just imagined her flinching.”

   “Maybe…” I begrudgingly agree, but inside my mind is racing. There has to be something I could do. Some way to help Cami.

   I’m interrupted by the half hour call over the intercom, and realize I’m still makeup-less and in my street clothes. Determined not to pull a Leslie, I get dressed in record time and head towards the stage, running into Lin on the stairs.

   “Hey Pippa Soo! How was the thing? Morgan said it was good!”

    “She’d be right. All good. God Lin- they’re such special kids and it just fucking sucks that-” Lin cuts me off by wrapping his arms around me.

  “I know Pippa. I know. You want to save everyone, you precious cinnamon roll.” I pull away at that last comment.

   “What did you just call me?”

    “Oh, it’s something the kids are saying on the twitter,” Lin says, already running away from me up the stairs. “I gotta go find Groff. GROFFSAUCCCEEE!” he hollers, as I laugh and continue down to the stage.

***

  After bows, I run backstage to grab a sip of water before going back onstage to talk to the kids. I come on stage left to see about four 15-year-olds aggressively flirting with Anthony, while Jasmine lurks outside the circle with murder in her eyes. I chuckle as I walk by, whispering “stand down, girl” in Jazzy’s ear.

  Further downstage, Carleigh appears to be swapping makeup tips with a girl while Daveed and Oak orchestrate a beatboxing contest among a couple of the boys. I continue to scan the set, but I don’t see Cami anywhere.

   Finally, I glance out at the house, where I see a figure on the aisle of the eighth or ninth row. I quickly hop off the stage and hurry down the aisle towards her.

  “Hey.” She looks up, noticing me for the first time, and I see that her eyes are red and she has tear stains on her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

   “Yeah,” she says hurriedly. “I just- I mean- that was- wow.” She finishes, her eyes welling up with tears, which she quickly moves to swipe away.

   “Hey, hey hey. It’s okay.” I kneel down in the aisle, and hesitantly move my hand toward her face. “May I?” She nods and I move the hair stuck to her face aside and try to wipe away her stray mascara.

   “I’m sorry.” She chokes out. “I know it’s dumb”

   “It’s not dumb at all. The show still makes me like this sometimes, and I’ve done it hundreds of times. You know what this means, you being this affected by it?” I ask her gently. She shakes her head. “It means you have the soul of a real actor. Hamilton is a brilliant work of art and you allowed it to affect you in such a real and honest way. That’s something that even highly trained actors struggle with, vulnerability.”

  She meets my eyes and gives me a faint smile, and I pull her in for a hug, rubbing her back slowly. As my hand moves slightly to the left, I feel her flinch. I quickly pull away.

   “Are you okay? Did that hurt? Did I hurt you?” I’m frantic.

   “No no no I’m fine!” She replies, clearly lying. “I-I fell in ballet the other day, and my ribs are a little sore. That’s it.” I decide not to push it right then and there, and instead take her hand.

  “I told Renée and Jasmine all about your performance, and they really want to meet you. Would that be okay?”

   “They want to meet _me?_ ” She asks incredulously. “I think you may have that backwards.” I laugh and stand up, taking her with me.

   “Well either way,” I start walking towards the stage, still holding Cami’s hand. “There are introductions to be made.”

*******

  After the Graham Windham kids, Cami included, have gotten back on their bus to go back to wherever they lived, (try as I might, I hadn't gotten any information from Cami about her home situation) Jazzy, Renée and I go back to our dressing room to get our stuff together.   
    "You're right Pippa," Jazz says. "Cami's cool. I kept forgetting she was a teenager." This is high praise coming from Jasmine, who prides herself on never having been a "teen" in the stereotypical sense.   
   I share what Cami had told me about her ribs with the girls, and while they agree that she was probably lying about how she got injured, neither of them seem nearly concerned enough about the actual source of her injury. Renée puts her arm around me, stopping my restless pacing and speaking in what Lin has dubbed her "mom voice."   
  "Just be careful, please Pip. You're going through a lot right now, don't bite off more than you can chew in trying to fix this girl."

But I've slipped away again, thinking about what happened right before the bus left.   
   ~  
I'd pulled Cami aside as the kids began to filter out. "Hey, do you have a phone?"  
   "Yeah?" She responds cautiously, pulling an old slide phone out of her jacket pocket.   
    "Can I give you my number? Maybe we could get coffee sometime? I want to hear more of your thoughts on the show!" Looking like at any moment I might yell "you've been pranked you suckaaa," Cami hands me her phone. I put my number in it and call myself. "There. Now I have yours too." When I give her back her phone she stands there for a moment and then pulls me into a massive hug.

  "Thank you. For everything. Today was incredible." She speaks softly, her voice muffled by my hair. She then leaves with the group, glancing back at me quickly before she goes, and I wander back upstairs. I grab my phone, smile at the missed call, and dash off a message: "Hey! It's Pippa! Get home safe :)"

~

"Wanna come? ...Hello? Earth to Phillipa." I zone back in to see Daveed and Jasmine staring at me with concern.

   "We're going to get drinks at Glasshouse. Do you want to come with us?" Daveed asks me slowly, exchanging a worried glance with Jasmine.

  "What? Yeah, sure. Let me grab my jacket." Anything to stay away from my apartment, where everything reminded me of Steven.

  Steven. My heart sinks as I realize I hadn't thought of him since that morning, but now the thoughts are back and full-fledged. I think back to this time last year, when we'd been dating for just a couple of months and everything was perfect. For our three month-aversary, he took me to a tiny hole-in-the wall Italian restaurant in Chelsea because I had once mentioned I regretted not traveling to Europe when I was in college. When he kissed me goodnight, he promised me we'd travel to Italy together someday. "We'll do everything together," he had promised. Well, cheers to broken promises. I shoulder my coat and leave the room, determined to have fun with my friends tonight.

   Daveed, Jasmine, Anthony, Carleigh, and I take an Uber to Glasshouse Tavern, a bar fairly close to the theatre. The girls and I grab a table by the door while Anthony and Daveed go to get drinks.

  "You okay Pippa?" Carleigh looks worried, her brows knitting together over her perfect winged liner.

  "I'm okay. Just thinking."

   "About Steven?" Jazzy always knows. I guess the look on my face is enough of an answer for her because she just sighs and rubs my back. "It'll get easier. We all hate seeing you like this." She’s cut off by the boys returning, and I graciously accept the cosmo Daveed hands me.

   Three drinks later, Carleigh’s in the middle of her impression of the time Lin forgot all the words to My Shot in rehearsal when the door swings open, letting a blast of cold air in. I shiver and turned to see who’s responsible for the chill running down my spine. What I see, however, only makes the chill worse.

  It’s Steven. With her. He has his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the bar. Like he used to do with me. Jasmine sees my panic-stricken face and follows it to where they now stand by the bar. Her face hardens.

   "Fuck no." She leans over and whispers something to Anthony before grabbing my arm and quickly guiding me out of the bar, cursing under her breath.

   Some part of my brain recognizes that I should be furious, or sobbing, but I just feel numb. I can tell Jazzy and Daveed are talking, but I can’t tell what they are saying. I just keep reliving it. Steven, in my bed with her. In the bar, where he kissed me for the first time, with her.

  I guess someone had called an Uber because Jazzy gently pushes me in the back of a car, then gets in after me. We pull up at my apartment building, and Anthony takes the purse off my shoulder and unlocks the door with my keys. We get up into my apartment and when I walk in, Steven’s everywhere. His scent, still on my pillow. His extra toothbrush, still in the bathroom cabinet. And something inside me breaks.

   I start to sob, and Jazzy leads me over to the couch, where I put my head in my hands and continue to cry with her arms around me. Anthony is panicking.

  "Oh my god. She's crying, Shit. What do we do?? Should I-"

  Jasmine cuts off his rambling. "Go make her some tea." Anthony goes into the kitchen, and she shake her head, exasperated. "That boy cannot handle tears, I swear." I know she is trying to lighten the mood, and I giggle a little, then remember all the times I had come home from a hard rehearsal crying and Steven would hold me for hours. He is so deeply entrenched in every part of my life, and I worry I'll never escape him.

  Jasmine continues to try to comfort me, and I can hear her voice catching as I get more and more upset. "It's okay babe. Let it all out." And I do. I cry in Jasmine's arms while she strokes my hair, and eventually drift off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's part 2! Honestly buckle your seatbelts for a lot of angst


	3. confessions over tea

  I wake up the next morning in my own bed with a pounding headache. I grab my phone off the bedside table to a text from Jasmine and one from Cami. Jazzy’s reads: “Hope you feel better <3 take some advil if you’re hungover and call if you need me.” The other one says: “Hey Pippa, made it back okay. Have a good show tonight!” I smile as I read Cami’s message, but realize that while I’d told her to “get home safe” she only replied that she’d “made it back.” Wherever she is isn’t her home, and I’m so worried it isn’t safe.

  I text Jazzy back, letting her know I’m alive, albeit slightly hungover, and then send a text to Cami asking if she wants to meet me at the coffee shop by the theatre before my call. Almost immediately I receive a reply saying “Sure! See you at 5!” Plans cemented, I go to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast.

  At 4:48, I walk into Corso Coffee, grateful for the shelter from the overnight temperature drop that characterizes fickle New York weather, and sit down at a table in the back where I have a clear view of the door. Cami comes in at 5:03, shivering in a long sleeved shirt and jeans. I stand up as she comes in and wave my arms until she sees me. When we make eye contact, her face lights up and she comes over to my corner. I give her a hug, then pull away and grab her hands, rubbing them between my own.

  “Are you crazy? It’s like 40 degrees out, your hands are freezing! Where’s your jacket?” She looks down, pulling away.

   “I-uhh I don’t really have a-”

  “Shit. I’m sorry Cam, I didn’t mean to,” she cuts me off.

  “No, it’s okay, really. And I’m not even all that cold. I just have terrible circulation!” She jokes, but is clearly just trying to change the topic.

   “Alright, well at least let me buy you coffee,” I bargain.

   “Are you sure? You really don’t have to do that.”

   “I know. That’s what makes me so nice!” She glares at me for a second, then bursts out laughing.

   “Are you kidding me? Of all the musicals to reference, you went with Wicked?”

   “Shut up. What do you want?”

   When I get back to our table with a chai latte for myself and a green tea latte for Cami, she looks significantly warmer. I hand her the drink and sit down.

   “How did you get here?” I ask. “Do you take the subway by yourself?

   “I walked, actually.”

   “Oh, true. Where do you live?” She looks down and says the next part in a whisper.

   “68th.”

  “Cami. You walked 22 blocks to get here? You should’ve told me it was too far away! I could’ve come to you. Are you planning on walking back?” She nods. “Nope. No way. You’re not dying of hypothermia on my watch.” I tell her I’ll get her an Uber, and after realizing that I am just as stubborn as she is, she backs down and agrees.

 

     We talk for about an hour before I have to go to the theatre, and in that time I learn that Cami has mastered the art of avoidance. While I give her pretty much my entire life story, even brushing on what happened with Steven, what I learn about her probably wouldn’t fill up one side of a 3x5 index card. I now know her last name, Beckett, but I have no idea whether that is a foster family’s last name or that of her biological parents. I know she dances at STEPS on a scholarship, and that she’s fluent in French, but that pretty much marks the end of what I found out from her.

  I still have no information as to why she is in the system, what kind of living situation she’s in, or anything else that could help me figure out what is going on with her. Anytime I ask her what could possibly have been interpreted as a “personal question,” her face flushes and she looks down, seemingly ashamed. I can tell she’s not the sort to open up easily, and I know I’m going to have to convince her that I can be trusted. I don’t want to push my luck.

  A little after 6, the Uber I’d called pulls up in front of the coffee shop, and this time Cami doesn’t hesitate at all before she wraps her arms around me. I pull her close. “Text me when you get back, okay?”

  “Okay, mom,” she jokes before getting in the back of the tan car. My heart flip-flops in my chest, and I silently remind myself that it’s a joke. She’s joking. “Wait- Pippa?” I stop a split second before I shut the door. “Thanks.”

   In that moment, something passes between us, and I think we both know she’s talking about more than just the latte.

   The rest of my week is crazy, with put-in rehearsals galore due to what we’ve dubbed the Hamil-plague, which is causing our cast and crew to drop like flies. I’m still healthy, but my frantic schedule means I don’t hear much from Cami. I text her almost every day, but soon figure out that she notoriously does not charge her phone, so replies are few and far between.

   Even through my busy schedule, I spend a lot of time thinking about her. Growing up as an only child, I’d always wanted a little sister, and I’ve clicked with Cami in a way that feels different from the other relationships in my life. When I’m with her, I stop thinking about my own problems, about Steven and my voice crack in the show last night. Something about Cami fills me with an overwhelming urge to protect her. I want to wrap her in a blanket and never let her out of my sight, but I’m going to have to get her to talk to me first.

  About a week and a half after our first coffee date, Cami and I meet again, this time at a used bookstore and café. I had offered to come pick her up, but she quickly refused and assured me she’d take the subway this time, and not walk in the freezing cold like before.

   When she comes in, I can instantly tell she’d lied to me. Her lips are practically blue and she shivers as I hand her a hot chocolate. I’m about to call her out when I see something that freezes the words before they leave my mouth. The right side of Cami’s jaw is covered in a huge, poorly concealed bruise. My heart breaks for her and I wrack my brain to come up with the best way to address it.

   “Hey Cam? It’s freezing in here and you already look pretty cold. Do you want to go to the theatre? I’m pretty sure there’s an understudy rehearsal going on, we could go hang out in my dressing room!”

   “Sure, as long as that’s not too much trouble for you.” She looks slightly alarmed, and keeps tilting her face away from me, clearly trying to hide the bruise.

   “Of course not Cam. Come on babe, let’s go.” I put my arm around her and we leave the store, as I silently dread the conversation I’m about to have.

  “Do you want something to drink?” I glance at where Cami sits on the couch behind me. “Renée has a kettle in here if you want tea, or I can go steal something out of Lin’s dressing room, he always has juice boxes.”

   “Tea would be great Pippa, thanks!” I nod and switch on the kettle. “This is so cute!” She looks around the room that has become my second home. “You share this with Jasmine and Renée?” I nod.

  “Though honestly, Anthony is in here so much with Jazz that his name might as well be on the door too.” She giggles. “Do you want honey in your tea?”

   “Yes please.” I hand her the steaming mug as I sit down next to her. “Hey, Cami?”

   “Mhmm?” She responds as she blows on her tea. I take a deep breath.

  “How did you get that bruise on your jaw?” As the words come out of my mouth, I see her tense, almost spilling the mug she holds. She starts to mumble something about being a klutz when I interrupt her. “Not some BS excuse, Cam. I’m worried about you.” I place my hand on the uninjured side of her face and tilt her chin up, forcing her to make eye contact with me.

  “Cami. Did someone hit you?” Her eyes well up with tears and I see her hands start to shake as she nods almost imperceptibly. I quickly take the still-hot mug out of her hands and scoot closer to her, wrapping my arms around her as the tears turn into full on sobs. I hold her close to me as her whole body shakes with fear and pain that no teenager should ever know. The wet spot I feel on my shoulder grows as sobs wrack her body, and I feel tears welling up in my own eyes at the thought of anyone hurting her.

  After a while, Cami’s tears slow to a trickle and her breathing becomes more controlled. I hand her a tissue and take her hands in mine. “So this next part is gonna be hard. I know that, and I wish more than anything that I didn’t have to do this, but I need you to tell me what happened.” She pulls her hands away from me. “Cami. Please. I just want to keep you safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.” For about a minute, she just sits staring at her hands in her lap, and when she finally speaks it’s at a level I can barely hear.

  “It was my fault. I forgot to take out the trash.”

  “Who hurt you Cam?”

  “It was Danielle’s turn on trash duty yesterday. I always do her chores because she’s older and bigger than me, but I wasn’t paying attention and I forgot to take out the trash. Danielle lost her free time for this Friday. She was mad, and…yeah.” Cami tells me all of this the way a student might recite times-tables: monotone and void of any emotion, but I can tell by how hard she’s pressing her lips together that she’s desperately trying to keep herself from falling apart again.

  “Who is Danielle? Foster sister?” I ask her cautiously. I still don’t have the full story.

   “She’s one of the girls who lives in the home with me. The oldest one.”

   “You live in a group home?” She nods.

   “Not many people want to foster teenagers, so I’m pretty much stuck there until I age out of the system.”

   “This isn’t the first time this has happened, is it? What really happened to your ribs?”

   “I tried to stand up to her. I told her I wouldn’t steal from Rita, the woman who’s in charge of the home. Clearly that was a shitty idea.”

   “I can’t just let this happen to you. We have to tell someone. Rita, or your social worker, or someone!” Cami’s face suddenly gets deadly serious and she looks me straight in the eye.

   “Pippa. I can’t expect you to understand this, but you cannot, under any circumstances, try to do anything about this. Either they won’t do anything but give her a warning and Danielle will get pissed and it’ll get worse, or I’ll get moved to a worse placement. This isn’t as bad as it could be, trust me. Pippa. Please. Don’t try to make this better.” In that moment I see in her eyes weariness and knowledge that don’t belong there, and no trace of the teenager who’d been joking with me only an hour before. I pull her back into my embrace, wishing there was something, anything I could do to make this better.

   “I’m so sorry Cami. You deserve so much more than this.”

   “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” She looks at her phone. “Shit! Okay I have to go. Like, now.”

  My heart plummets. She has to go back there, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “I’ll walk you to the subway.”

   When we get to the stop, I press money into her protesting hand. “Take it. Buy a MetroCard. Stop walking everywhere before you freeze to death.” I give her one last hug, trying to fill it with all the things I can’t figure out how to say. “Be safe, and TEXT ME. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Bye Pip! I will, promise,” and she disappears underground.

~

   That night at work, true to my word, I don’t tell anyone what I’d found out from Cam. Daveed notices I’m upset, but chalks it up to Steven and doesn’t press me. He does, however, spend all of intermission giving me a back massage, which I’m not gonna complain about.

  After the show, I text Vanessa, Lin’s wife, and ask if we can meet for coffee the next day. I’m determined to keep my promise to Cami, but since Vanessa’s a lawyer I figure I can get her perspective on the situation while being assured her confidentiality. She responds fairly quickly and we make plans to meet.

  I also spend a fair bit of time on the New York state office of Children and Family services website looking up information on how to become a foster parent. As I search the website, a voice nags in the back of my head. What am I doing? I’m not ready to take care of a child! But then I remember Cami’s face as she cried in my arms, and I make my decision. Something had brought the two of us together, and I’m going to do everything in my power to keep her safe.


	4. misunderstandings and a sleepover

   Vanessa, in true lawyer fashion, barely blinks when I tell her what Cami had told me the day before. I’m grateful for her professionalism, because I know that if she’d gotten upset I would’ve lost it and cried again, like I had when I’d gotten home the night before.

  “So here’s the deal.” She reiterates what I’d learned the night before, that there’s a 2-month process to become certified as a foster parent, and that even if I complete it, Cami would have to be approved to enter a single family placement. So basically, I’m never getting her out of there.

   Vanessa takes a sip of her coffee. “Unless…” I perk up, interested.

   “Unless?”

   “Well, there’s something called an emergency placement. The state could rush your certification and get Cami out of there in a couple of weeks. But, that would require a ruling that she is not physically or psychologically safe in her group home. Which would mean-” I sit back, defeated.

  “She’d have to talk.”

  “Listen, Pippa. This could work! You could get her out of there. Try talking to her again. It sounds like she’s really starting to trust you.”

   “I just wish it was enough.”

~

   A week later, I walk into the ensemble girls’ dressing room to see Cami standing by Ari, who has a perplexed look on her face. “Ari,” Cami laughs as she speaks. “It’s easy. Take the right side under over under, then the left.” They’re standing behind Carleigh, whose hair is parted down the middle. Cami’s in the midst of weaving some elaborate braid in the left half, while Ari just appears to be tying strands in knots out of frustration. Carleigh’s the first one to see me.

   “Thank god you’re here. Please get this demon’s hands out of my hair before I lose all feeling in my scalp,” she jerks her head at Ari. I laugh and wave her off. 

   “Camiiiiii! Another masterpiece!” I hip bump her as I admire the braid she’s done on Carleigh. My heart swells as I see her laughing and joking around with the girls. I love how comfortable she was becoming around the people who’d become my second family. They care about her too. The day I’d met with Vanessa, Lin had pulled me into his dressing room during intermission.

~

    “Pippa Soo. Are you doing okay?” I see the concerned look in his eyes and know instantly what he’s talking about.

   “Vanessa told you??”

   “Hey, we’re married. She’s contractually obligated to. Anyways. Are you gonna talk to Cami about the emergency thingy?”

   “I don’t know. I mean-I want to do anything to get her out of there. But, what if she comes to live with me and I don’t know how to take care of her? Or I do something wrong and they take her away from me and someone starts hurting her again?” I’m rambling now, and I know Lin can tell how upset I am.

  “Listen Pippa. One, you would be an incredible foster parent to Cami or to anyone else. And two, you don’t have to do it alone. You have me, and Renée and Jasmine, and Daveed, and this whole big crazy cast. We’re your family Pippa, and we’re not gonna let you fall.”

  “Ugh. Why are you so good at the words??” I hug my friend.

  “It’s what they pay me for!” Just then, we hear the places call for act 2 and Lin runs for the wings.

~

 “Hey Cam? They’re gonna clean Room Where It Happens for the next couple of hours, so I’m ready to go whenever you’re done with all of…this” I gesture at the shambles of Ari’s braid, earning an eye roll from her.

   “Yeah, okay! I just need to grab my stuff out of your dressing room!” Cami had gotten special permission to be away from her foster home overnight, and she was sleeping over at my apartment after hanging out at the theatre with the cast all afternoon. I knew this was going to be my opportunity to talk about fostering her, but first I was going to have to get up the courage to do it.

   We walk out of the theatre with Jasmine, who was going to come hang out for a couple of hours while Anthony has “bro time” with Oak and Daveed. I see Cami shiver in the late October air and quickly pull off my scarf, wrapping it around her neck and ignoring her protests. “Cam, you are SHAKING. Wear the scarf.” She consents, pulling it higher up on her neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jazzy give me a sideways glance, and grab her arm so we fall back as the three of us walk towards the subway.

   “What was that look??”

   “Oh come on, like you don’t know.” Jasmine looks at me, clearly amused. “You’re such a MOM with her!! Giving her your scarf, always trying to give her food, you know.”

  “I am not!” I say, suddenly defensive. “I just care about her. A lot.” Jasmine’s voice softens.

   “I know, that’s really clear, and I think she cares about you too. That’s not a bad thing! You need to let yourself get attached to people.” I know she’s talking about Steven, and am about to reply when Cami turns around.

  “Okay honestly, I’ve just been walking in a straight line because I have absolutely no idea where I’m going.” I laugh and grab her hand while Jasmine dramatically gestures at the subway station directly to our right.

   “Well, your spidey senses are clearly working then. Come on, let’s get out of the cold.”

   Three hours, one veggie pizza, and an embarrassing number of “New Girl” episodes later, Jasmine gets up off the couch with a groan. “Alright, Ant’s home and probably drunk so I gotta go take embarrassing videos of him.” She gives Cami a hug and drops a kiss on the top of my head before heading for the door.

   “As long as I get to see said videos I’m not complaining. Get home safe Jazz!” I get up and lock the door behind her, then turn to look at the teenager splayed on my couch.

   “Hey Cami, can I talk to you about something?”

**********

   “You did what?” If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor right about now.

   “Okay, listen. I know this looks bad.” I reach out to put my hand on Cami’s arm, but she yanks it away.

   “Bad? Phillipa, you did the one thing I specifically asked you not to do. I told you, I’m handling it.”

   “With all due respect Cami, you’re not. I see you wince when people hug you too tightly. I saw you flinch away today when Emmy tried to give you a high five. You’re not handling it, but you shouldn’t have to be. No one your age, fuck, no one at all, should be going through what you are. So please, let me try to help you. I want to help you.” She’s still making intense eye contact with the buttons on her shirt, but she speaks softly.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?!” She looks up finally, and her eyes are glassy from withheld tears.

  “I’m not saying I’ll do...whatever it is. But I’m listening.” I reach for her hand again, and this time she doesn’t pull away.

 ~

   “So you’re saying that if I do this emergency placement thing, I could get out of the group home in a couple of weeks?” I nod, smiling. “Fantastic. So all you figured out was a way to get me moved into another crappy home even faster.”

   “Cami, no-” I try to explain, but she cuts me off.

   “Do you know what happens to kids who can’t manage to not make trouble in a group home Pippa? They send them to juvie. They make up some BS charge because it’s easier than finding somewhere to put a kid that’s as fucked up as I am.” I start to interject again, but she keeps talking. “They don’t put just anyone in a group home to begin with, you know. We’re the “problem kids.” There’s a little sticker on my folder that says I’m _difficult to place_. I’m not cute like the little kids or funny or talented or special, or wanted.” Her breathing begins to pick up alarmingly, and she barely gets the last few words out. I put my hands on her shoulders.

   “See, that’s where you’re wrong, Cam. Because if you had let me finish talking, I would’ve explained to you that the emergency placement I was talking about is me.” I’m crying now, fat tears that reflect the ones pouring down Cami’s cheeks. “I want you Cami. I think you’re cute and funny and talented and so freaking special.” She swallows, hard, and looks down again.

   “You want to foster me?” Her voice shakes and she’s barely audible.

   “Yes, Cami, yes!” I laugh through my tears. “Would you be okay with that?” Before the words are even halfway out of my mouth, Cami has launched herself across the couch and into my arms. “I’ll take that as a yes then,” I chuckle, running my fingers along her back.

  We stay like that for a while, just Cami and me on the couch, with no thought to Danielle or Steven or the future. When Cami sits back eventually, her cheeks are dry, but her eyes are still rimmed with red.

   “So what happens now?” Her voice grows steadier as she speaks.

   “We call Vanessa. I think. Honestly Cam, I don’t know what I’m doing. But Vanessa’s a kickass lawyer and she’s gonna help us figure this whole thing out. And I’m gonna be there for you. Every step of the way.”

  She bounces a little on the couch. “Okay, so can we call Vanessa now?” I glance at the clock on the DVD player, then laugh a little.

  “Well, not right now Cam, because it’s 2 in the morning. But tomorrow.” Cami looks at the clock too, looking as shocked as I feel.

   “Oh my god, Pippa! You have to do a show tomorrow! You have to go to sleep!”

   “It’s okay babe, I’ve become a professional napper. But you do need to go to bed. You’re practically propping your eyes open right now.” I show her where the bathroom is, then go into my room to change into pajamas. When I come back out into the living room, Cami’s passed out on the couch, still wearing her glasses. I take them off her face, then grab the blanket off the top of the couch and wrap it around her, tucking her in. Before I go back to my room, I kiss her on the forehead.  “I wish you saw yourself the way I see you, Cam. Thank you for letting me in.” I hesitate for a second. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mwahaha the angst is just beginning


	5. intuition and a phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello remember when I said that the angst was just beginning?

I look at the note on my bedside table, heart sinking. It reads:

 Pippa-

(8:30) Didn’t want to wake you up, I’ll take the subway back (Promise!) Thank you for everything. Text me with updates!

-Cam

  According to my phone, it is now 9:15. I’d missed her. I get out of bed, kicking myself for not asking Cami the night before when she had to be back (I couldn’t bring myself to call that place her home anymore). I text her, telling her to come to the theatre later if she can get away, and then call Vanessa. As I expected, she’s thrilled with what Cami had said, and Lin doesn’t miss the opportunity to scream “I TOLD YOU SO” in the background. Vanessa fills me in on the next couple of steps I should take, and tells me she’ll start writing some official document I’ll never remember the name of. I can’t get the smile off my face as I think about finally getting Cami out of there.

  At the theatre later, I sit down Jasmine and Renée and finally fill them in on everything that had been going on, everything I couldn’t tell them before. Renée’s maternal eyes fill with tears when I tell them Cami’s being abused, and even Jasmine, Ms. “hasn’t cried since 2014”, has suspiciously shiny eyes. When I finish talking, they exchange a worried glance.

   “Phillipa,” Jasmine begins slowly, glancing at Renée, who nods. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I stand up, indignant.

   “Are you kidding. Did you not hear anything I just told you?” This time Renée chimes in.

   “Just hear us out, please. There are programs that exist specifically for this purpose. To help foster kids in abusive situations get out of them. I know that you want to help her, and no one is blaming you for that! But did it ever occur to you that you might be moving a little quickly? You barely know her. You said yourself, you don’t know why she’s in the system, or anything other than her last name!” I step back from them slowly, my voice shaking.

   “I know this all must sound crazy to you. I understand that, I really do. I don’t know very much about Cami, but nothing she could tell me would make me care about her any less. I know it’s not going to be easy, trying to fix her or help her or whatever. But I want to do it. This isn’t about me just wanting to fix everything in the world, and this isn’t about trying to deal with Steven leaving. This is about Cami. Because she’s so incredibly special, I can already tell. So I guess for right now, I just need you two to trust me.”

   Jasmine steps forward, pulling me into a hug. “We trust you Pip. If you’re so sure about this, I trust you. 100 percent.” Renée was suddenly in the hug too.

   “And you’re right, Pip, it’s not going to be easy, kids never are. So it’s a good thing you don’t have to do this alone.” I feel so safe in the arms of my sisters, and I know then, for sure, that this is the right decision.

  “I love you guys; you know that right?”

  Just as they’re beginning to answer me, the door flings open and I hear Oak bellow “GROUP HUG,” before we’re rudely interrupted by him, Daveed, and Anthony throwing themselves into our little circle. I chuckle as Jasmine begins yelling at Anthony about messing up her hair. These crazy people were my family, and I couldn’t be happier that they were going to be Cami’s too.

   The show flies by, and before I know it we’re taking our company bow and ambling up the stairs, everyone talking about what they’re planning for their day off tomorrow. I peel off into my dressing room as Andrew announces that he’s going to sleep, because “this queen needs his beauty rest.” Chuckling, I pick up my phone, hoping for a text from Cami, and see the only one I’ve received is from Sprint, telling me I’ve used 75% of my data. I groan and throw my phone onto the beanbag chair in the corner. “She just forgot to plug her phone in again,” I tell myself, trying to dispel the weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “You ready to go?” Daveed walks into my dressing room, eyes closed, and immediately runs into the wall.

   “Daveed, I’m not naked. You can open your eyes,” I say through peals of laughter. “I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes; can I meet you guys downstairs?” He agrees and leaves, rubbing the back of his head as Renée continues to cackle with laughter.

  “Sure you can’t come?” I ask as I slip on my jacket. Chris has been raving about a ramen place on 74th for ages, and a bunch of us are going tonight.

   “I’m sure,” Renée smiles. “Sundays are one of 2 days I get to tuck my babies in. I can get ramen anytime.” I nod and leave the room, smiling to myself. I love “Mama Renée,” as Anthony’s dubbed her.

   ~

   About twenty-five minutes later, we all finally straggle into the restaurant, and the waiter smiles as he shows us to our table. “It’s like herding cats!” Chris, who’d spent the past 15 minutes on the phone trying to give Anthony and Oak directions, whispers to me. I giggle and sit down in between Jasmine and Daveed, grabbing a menu. It strikes me in that moment that I haven’t heard from Cami since her note this morning, and I pull out my phone in case I missed the vibration, but still, 0 new messages. I text her again, asking her to let me know if she’s okay, then tune in to the argument Jasmine and Daveed are having about who successfully dabbed more times in the show tonight.

  When the food comes, I finally realize how hungry I am, but only take a couple bites before my phone rings. Crossing my fingers that it’s Cami, I grab it out of my purse to see a number I don’t recognize. Hopes dashed, I slide my finger to answer it anyways, standing up and moving a little ways away from the table.

  “Hello?”

   “Hi, is this Phillipa Soo?” I don’t recognize the woman’s voice on the other end.

   “Yes, this is she.”

    “I’m calling from Morgan-Stanley Children’s Hospital. We have a Camille Beckett here and she’s asking for you.”

 ~

   My heart is threatening to beat out of my chest as I quickly scribble down the address the woman on the phone gives me on a scrap of paper I find on the hostess stand. I feel like collapsing to the ground, but I know I need to be strong for Cami right now. I walk back over to the table, and Daveed and Jasmine both stand up when they see my face, which I’m sure looks like I’ve seen a ghost. I manage to get out “Cami. Hospital,” and press the address into Jasmine’s hand before I start crying, and someone is holding me because otherwise I would be on the ground, but I don’t know who it is. I’m being guided somewhere, and as we exit the restaurant, the cold air snaps me a little more back to my senses. I realize Daveed is the one supporting me against his chest with one arm, while he talks on the phone with his other hand. He’s yelling, I don’t know whom at, but it clearly works because about 3 minutes later a car pulls up and we get in.

   Once we’re on the way to the hospital, Daveed takes my hands.

   “Listen Pippa, I know you’re terrified and upset right now, but once you get in there you need to hold it all together for Cami.” I nod, knowing he’s right. I have to be the strong one now.

   After an excruciatingly long car ride, we pull up in the bay of the ER, and I run in while Daveed pays the driver. I find the nurses’ station and run up to it. “Hi. I’m looking for Cami. Camille Beckett. I just got a call, that she’s here. I’m Pippa. Phillipa Soo.”

  At the end of my nervous ramble, Daveed joins me, in time to for the nurse to announce, in a bored and apathetic tone, “Room 119.” She points down a hallway and I take off, Daveed close behind. When we find the room, a woman in blue scrubs stops me before I can go in.

  “Phillipa?” I nod, and she extends her hand. “I’m Doctor Foley. We spoke on the phone.” I nod again, recognizing her voice, and shake her hand.

   “Can I see Cami now? Is she okay? What happened?”

   “Camille was brought in with several fractured ribs and some mild abdominal bleeding, which was causing her to cough up blood. She also has some bruising on her face and arms. The woman who brought her in, the head of her group foster home, told us she’d fallen down the stairs, but these injuries aren’t conducive with that, and the amount of emotional distress she was in when she came in also indicates otherwise. We’ve called Child Protective Services, and there’s a social worker who tried to talk to Camille, but she’s been highly unresponsive, only insisting we call you. We’re hoping you can convince her to open up.”

   As she talks, I feel Daveed’s hand on the small of my back, grounding me and reminding me of what we’d talked about in the car. I pull him aside as the doctor leaves, before I go in Cam’s room. “Call Vanessa. Tell her everything that woman just told us, and ask her what to do, or ask her to come down here, or something.” Daveed pulls out his phone, and I take a deep breath and open the door in front of me. What I see brings tears to my eyes.

   Cami is lying in a hospital bed, which dwarfs her tiny frame and makes her look like a little kid. She has a huge bruise on her cheekbone, and a cut on her forehead above her left eyebrow. What hurts me the most, though, is the look in her eyes. They’re filled with fear and pain and sadness and panic, though I see a quick flash of relief when they meet mine. I rush to her bedside, taking her hand and stroking her hair. “Oh Cami, baby girl, I’m so sorry.” She scooches over in the bed and I climb in beside her, wrapping my arms around her as she buries her head in my shoulder. She doesn’t cry, but we just sit there in silence for a while. I think she’s reached a point beyond tears.

   Daveed comes in, waving his phone around. “Vanessa’s coming. Strict instructions: You two don’t talk to anyone until she gets here. I’ve been told to stall.” Clearly trying to ease the tension, he flashes his million-dollar smile and winks. “I’ve also been told I’m great at stalling.” With that, he pivots on his heel and goes back into the hallway, and I glance back down at Cami. She didn’t move the whole time Daveed was in here, but now she pokes her head up.

   “Talk to who?” Her voice quivers and she has a look of pure terror on her face.

   “Honestly Cam, I don’t know right now. But Vanessa’s coming, and she’s going to figure everything out. Danielle’s never going to be able to hurt you again.”

  At the mention of Danielle’s name, all of the walls Cami has put up come tumbling down and she starts violently sobbing. Her breathing picks up too, and I quickly recognize the symptoms of a panic attack as she hyperventilates in my arms. I move her up so her back is against my chest and gently take her hand and put it on my wrist. “Cami, listen to me. Can you feel my pulse?” She nods, and tries to say something, but can’t get enough air for the words to come out. “Shhh… it’s okay. I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re safe now, I’m here.” I feel Cami continue to struggle to breathe, and my heart pangs when I imagine how painful this must be with broken ribs. I keep rubbing her back, and try to get her to match her breathing with mine. After about 15 minutes, she’s calmed down to the point where she’s more or less breathing normally, and she’s relaxed her death grip on my wrist. She lays her head on my chest, but jerks it up again when Vanessa, who I realize she hasn’t met yet, walks in the room. “It’s just Vanessa. She’s wonderful, you’re okay, you’re safe,” I whisper in her ear, doing anything and everything I can to keep her calm. Vanessa comes over to the bed, introduces herself to Cami, then speaks to both of us in a hushed voice.

   “I think our best bet right now is to have Cami talk to the CPS social worker. She has no affiliation with Cami’s particular foster system, so there’s no bias there. They’re going to want to keep Cami here overnight for observation, but if we play our cards right she might be able to go home with you tomorrow.” She bends down and speaks directly to Cami. “Honey, I know this is scary and it all sucks, and I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through, but do you think you can talk to this woman about what’s been going on? I promise I wouldn’t ask you to unless it was absolutely necessary.” Cami wraps her hand tighter into the fabric of my jacket.

  “Can Pippa be there?” Vanessa smiles.

   “Pippa and I are both going to be there the whole time. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you.” Cami nods slowly and Vanessa gives her a thumbs-up. “Let’s get this over with.”


	6. Let's go home

   The interview with CPS is, if possible, even more painful than I imagined it could be. Cami spends the whole time trying to bury herself into my jacket, and speaks so softly that the social worker, who introduces herself as Karen, has to ask her to repeat herself more times than not.  Vanessa sits in the corner, taking furious notes. It all starts off innocently enough, with Karen asking Cami her birthday and social security number, which Cami rattles off with the ease of someone who’s been identified by these numbers for too long. Then Karen asks Cami about the home she’s in right now, and Cami tells her the same two stories she told me, about Danielle’s bullying and Rita turning a blind eye. When Karen asks her about the events that led to her current injuries, Cami takes a deep, rattling breath before she starts to speak.

   “Pippa told me yesterday that she wanted to foster me. She said that in order to get me out of that home, she’d have to have proof that I was being mistreated.” Karen nods, and I realize that Vanessa must have filled her in on this part already. “I got home from Pippa’s apartment yesterday morning, and I went to get started on making breakfast and doing laundry. I’d left my phone upstairs, and I guess Pippa had sent me a text.”

    My heart sinks as I remember the text I’d sent, reading “Don’t let Danielle get to you, babe. We’re gonna get you out of there so soon! <3” Cami squeezes her eyes shut, but keeps talking.

  “Danielle and a couple of the other girls came into the kitchen where I was washing dishes. They-they had my phone, and they were reading the text out loud. They kept asking me why I thought I was better than them, and telling me that Pippa didn’t care about me and that no one wanted me, and I kept washing the dishes because I was hoping they’d go away.” Her voice cracks a little, and I cradle her closer to me, trying to keep my own tears at bay. “But they didn’t go away. Usually Danielle would just slap me a couple times, or shove me or something. But this time-this time they didn’t stop. They kept kicking me and I think they threw a bowl at me and eventually Rita came in, and she wasn’t mad at them for hurting me. She said she was just angry because she was going to have to waste her time taking me to the hospital, and she told me to come up with a good story because no one wanted to deal with me.” When she finishes speaking, her voice is so full of hopelessness that I can’t contain my tears any longer, and they run down my cheeks, pooling into Cami’s hair.

   “You’re so brave,” I whisper to her, and she squeezes my hand. Karen is about to stand up and leave when Vanessa stops her.

  “One last thing, and I’d like to get this on the record.” She shoots Cami an encouraging glance, then asks, “Cami, is this the first time you’ve been in an abusive situation in a foster home?” There’s a moment so silent that the only sound is the beeping of a heart monitor next door, and then Cami shakes her head.

   “No, it’s not.” This time her voice has a steely edge to it, and Vanessa nods slowly and ushers Karen out of the room, leaving me alone with the broken teenage girl in my arms.

  I glance down at the only part of Cami I can see, the top of her head, and smooth down her hair. “Well, I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” From somewhere in the depths of my jacket, I feel her giggle, and my heart leaps at the familiar sound. “Cam, I want you to know that I am so fucking proud of you, and that I am never going to stop fighting until you get everything you deserve.” She sits up, blinking in the fluorescent hospital lighting.

   “I don’t deserve you, Pippa.” I try to speak, but her voice gets louder. “No, I don’t. I deserved this,” she gestures at the bruise on her face, “because I was too stupid to hide my phone, and too scared to fight back, and I don’t deserve you doing this, being here, and-” This time I place my fingers on her lips, effectively cutting her off.

   “Cami, I know you can’t see it right now, but you deserve the world and everything in it, and at the very least, you deserve a fighting chance. I want to give you that chance, and so much more. I can’t imagine to begin to understand what you’ve been through, and I know you feel worthless right now-but I’m going to keep reminding you that you’re so full of worth and so loved and special, and so incredibly, unbelievably enough. I’ll tell you that 10 times a day if that’s what it takes, because someday, you’re gonna see it yourself.” Cami doesn’t even try to wipe away her tears, but looks me straight in the eyes.

   “Really?” I reach down and brush the tearstains off her cheeks.

   “I promise.” We’re interrupted by Vanessa coming back in, Daveed at her heels. It takes me a moment before I register that they’re both beaming. Vanessa comes over to the hospital bed and takes my hand.

   “I have news!”

    Vanessa puts her hand on my shoulder. “CPS has approved you as a temporary foster home for Cami!” The elation flooding my body suddenly deflates, and I sit up sharply, displacing Cami.

   “Temporary?” I ask suspiciously.

   “Oh, no that’s just an emergency thing. It means you can take her home whenever she’s released, without going through all the formality of being legally approved as a foster parent. Then, once you do go through the training and get your apartment checked out and such, the state can approve you as a long-term foster parent.” I relax, relieved that this doesn’t mean Cami will be taken away from me.

   “Vanessa?” Cami’s sitting up too now, though I can see from the tension on her face that it’s putting strain on her ribs. She takes Vanessa’s hand. “Thank you. For this, for everything.”

   “You’re welcome Cami, I’m thrilled it all worked out. Now, I have a husband and a dog and a baby to get back to, and you two should get some sleep,” she looks pointedly at me. “Call me if you need anything.”

   After Vanessa leaves, Daveed finally leaves his post by the door and approaches. “I called Jasmine,” he says. “She’ll be here in a little bit, she’s bringing you guys some clothes.” It’s only then that I realize I’m still wearing jeans, and I’m so grateful for my friend’s thoughtfulness. “Do you guys need anything? Food, or something to drink, or anything?”

   I look at Cami, realizing she’s still far too scared to respond, and tell Daveed that we’d both love some water. He leaves, and I poke her cheek. “Are you hungry?” She shakes her head, stifling a huge yawn.

   “Honestly, I’m just exhausted.” I readjust our position on the stiff hospital bed so that Cami is lying next to me with my arm around her and her head on my chest.

   “Is this hurting you?” She shakes her head sleepily and I carefully pull the blanket up to her chin. “Sleep tight, sweet girl.”

  She is stirring in and out of consciousness when Daveed comes back in with two bottles of water, and is completely passed out by the time Jazzy bursts through the door.

   “Hey y’all!!” She practically yells, then notices the sleeping girl in my arms. “Oh, shit. Sorry!” She whispers this time, but Cami hasn’t moved. Jazzy sets the bag she’s holding down on a chair and comes over quietly. “How’s she doing? Daveed told me you got her out!”

   “She’s okay, I guess?” I sigh. “I mean, I don’t know if she’ll ever be okay. She’s been through so much shit.” Jasmine nods sadly.

   “Well, she has you now, and that’s got to be worth something.”

   “I hope so.”

Jasmine kisses Cami on her forehead. “Welcome to the family, girl.”

~

“Vitals!!” I blearily open my eyes to see who dares disrupt my slumber, and see an over-enthusiastic nurse holding a blood pressure cuff. I quickly recall yesterday’s events and climb out of the bed, waking Cami on my way out.

   “Good morning sunshine!” I laugh as she shakes her head and tries to roll over to go back to sleep, but stop when she winces and grabs her ribs.

   “That’s what I’m here for,” announces the nurse, far too energetically for 7 in the morning. “I have drugs!” She holds up a paper cup of pills, and Cami pushes herself into a seated position.

   “I’m interested,” she says, wincing. The nurse takes her blood pressure, pulse, and after a good deal of coaxing and handholding from me, a blood sample. After Cami takes the meds, the nurse turns to me.

   “She’s going to be discharged this morning. A doctor will come by shortly to go over instructions, and then you’re good to go as soon as you sign the discharge papers!”

   “Great, thank you!” I reply, but she’s already buzzed off, no doubt to go spread her pep elsewhere. “How are you feeling?” I turn to Cami, who groans.

   “Like I got hit by a truck.” I wince apologetically, grabbing the bag Jasmine left last night. I chuckle when I see she’s brought us at least 2.5 outfits each, including accessories. Only Jasmine. I toss Cami a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt with cacti on it that I’m pretty sure belongs to Anthony.

   “These okay?” She nods and goes into the bathroom to change, walking slowly and holding onto the wall. I throw on another pair of leggings and a flannel and perch on the bed, waiting for Cami. When she still hasn’t come out after about 5 minutes, I make my way over to the bathroom and knock on the door. “Cam? Everything okay?” There’s silence for a second, and then:

  “No.” I try the door but it’s locked.

   “Can you let me in so I can help you?” After a second, the lock clicks and I push the door open to see Cami sitting on the ground wearing the leggings and her hospital gown, with tears streaming down her cheeks. “What’s going on?”

   “I can’t” at this point I realize that while she is crying, it’s because she’s laughing so hard. “I can’t lift my arms up because of my ribs, so I can’t get this stupid gown off and I’m gonna have to wear it forever.” It’s not funny at all, but after the stress and panic of last night, I’m so relieved to see her laugh again that I lose it too. We sit on the bathroom floor, gasping for air, until she puts her hand on my arm. “Okay, but really Pippa, please help.” I sober up and help her stand up. Realizing that the hospital gown snaps in the back, I help her get it off, seeing her stomach for the first time.

   It’s covered in mottled bruises, ranging from dark blue to a sickly yellow, and even my untrained eye can tell that they’re not all from last night. I don’t realize I’m staring until Cami calls my name and gestures at the sweatshirt on the floor, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Though there’s no painless way to do it, we get the shirt on her, then stand in the bathroom, staring at each other, until I gently pull her into a hug, one hand on the back of her head. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur. “Let’s get you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are looking up? a little? maybe? #justyouwait


	7. You wanna break something?

  “You’re kidding.” I shrug and shake my head.

   “You actually think Meredith and Alex should end up together?” Cami is outraged, and I stifle a giggle at the look on her face. She sits back, exasperated. “And here I thought I could trust you.”

   We’re two and a half hours into our Grey’s Anatomy marathon, and I’m relieved to see that Cami’s anxiety levels seem to have gone down since leaving the hospital. She’s lying on the couch with her feet on my lap, icepack on her ribs, and has spent the last half hour ranting about how Callie deserves so much more than “Arizona’s ungrateful ass.” I think for a moment about chastising her for cursing, then remember the mouth I had at 16 and decide it’s a rite of passage. I glance down at my watch, noticing it’s almost dinner time, then remember the decidedly barren fridge I’d made a mental note to fill yesterday morning.

   “Okay, there is no food in this apartment, and you’re on strict instructions to rest, so where do you want to order from?”

   “I’m fine with anything, whatever you want!” I roll my eyes at her.

   “You’re the one with the fractured ribs, I’m gonna give you this one. So, Japanese, Thai, Mexican?” She perks up.

   “Thai is good! I used to get Thai food all the time with my...” she trails off.

   “With who, babe?”

   “um…with my mom. So do you have a good Thai place around here?” I know she’s changing the subject purposefully, but I don’t push it, choosing instead to add “Likes Thai food” to my (very short) list of things I know about her. I call the restaurant, ordering far more food than we’ll ever eat but hey, leftovers! I’m tuning back into the tv when my phone buzzes. It’s Vanessa, and I pick it up, moving Cami’s feet and going into the kitchen. She goes over a couple legal things with me, and tells me she’ll bring the official form to the theatre tomorrow, at which point I’ll legally be in charge of Cam. I thank Vanessa and hang up, going back into the living room.

   “Who was that?-if, if you don’t mind me asking,” Cami painfully trips over her words.

   “No, that’s fine! It was Vanessa. She said someone’s gonna drop your clothes and stuff off here tomorrow.”

   “Great.” There’s an uncomfortable silence, and I take the remote off the table and pause Netflix.

   “So there’s a couple things I just want to talk about really quickly, now that you’re living here.” I see Cami’s face sink, and I rub her knee, trying to be reassuring. “Okay so one, I know you’ve probably been in a lot of homes where they’ve treated you like shit and made you do tons of work and stuff, and I want to tell you now that this isn’t going to be anything like that. I want us to be equals, because honestly you’re probably more mature than I am.” She cracks a small smile at this, and I continue, encouraged. “Two, you’ve, well,” I gesture at the ice pack on her chest. “You’ve been through more than your fair share of horrible stuff, and while I know I can’t possibly understand, I want you to feel like I’m here for you. If you need to talk, or cry, or yell, or break stuff, please come to me. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, come wake me up and I’ll find you something to break. So, yeah, that’s about it. Sound okay to you?” Cami’s really smiling now, a smile that reaches all the way to her eyes.

  “Yes, that sounds, I mean, it’s perfect.” I’m about to answer when there’s a knock on the door, and Cami jumps about 10 feet into the air.

    “Just the food, it’s okay.” Though my initial reaction is to laugh when she’s startled, I’m saddened when I think about how much hurt she’s had to go through for a knock to scare her so much. After I pay the delivery guy, I grab two plates from the kitchen and Cami and I dig in. Or rather, I dig in. Maybe I’m just being hyper-attentive, but it seems to me like she’s doing a lot of pushing food around on her plate, and not a whole lot of putting it in her mouth. Rather than bring it up, and run the risk of causing another panic attack, I decide to chalk it up to the pain meds she’s on and weird sleeping schedules set by her unplanned night in the hospital.

   I notice Cami stifling yet another yawn and gently rub her shoulder. It’s only 9 but she’s had a long couple of days.

   “Okay, you’re exhausted, time for you to sleep.” I actually have a room for her, it’s just currently being used as a storage space for everything under the sun, including no less than 4 boxes of unassembled Ikea bookshelves. As soon as I bribe Oak and Daveed into doing the heavy lifting, Cami and I can decorate her room, but for now I’m down to one bed.

   “You can have my bed, I’ll take the couch.” I see the look on her face and cut her off before she even starts talking. “And don’t you dare try to argue with me. You have three broken ribs. Take. The. Bed.” She scowls, but gets off the couch and goes into my room, with me trailing behind her. In what was quite an ordeal earlier, I managed to wash her hair in the sink while only partially drenching myself, so all Cam had to do was climb into bed. I’m once again struck by how tiny she looks on my queen sized mattress, and I’m reminded of walking into her room at the hospital less than 24 hours ago.

    “Sleep tight sweet girl, holler if you need anything, okay?” I smooth down her hair and kiss her on the forehead, tucking the blanket around her before I leave.

   “Okay. Goodnight Pippa.” I can already see her eyes drooping shut, and I smile as I exit, leaving the door open a crack.

   “Goodnight, love.”

  **~  
**

   “I think you did the right thing. There’s no point in pushing it now while she’s still getting used to you. Maybe she didn’t like the food and thought it would be rude to tell you!”

   “No, but I think-” I attempt to interject, and I hear Jasmine chuckle. Even though I can’t see her face over the phone, I know she’s running her fingers through her hair, like she always does when I ramble.

    “I think you’re a little scared about taking care of a teenager, and you might be blowing this a little out of proportion.” I sigh, knowing she’s right.

   “Ugh, fine. To be fair, it is scary. I’m in charge of a whole person!” Jazzy laughs again.

   “Well as far as “whole people” go, I think Cami’s a pretty good one.”

   My voice softens and I nod, then realize Jasmine can’t see me. “Yeah, you’re right.”

   Before either of us say anything else I hear cries coming from down the hall and stand up, panicked. “Jasmine, I have to go. It’s Cam.” I hang up without any further explanation and run down the hallway, flinging open the door to my bedroom. Cami’s managed to throw all the blankets off of herself, and is curled into a ball in the corner of the bed, whimpering. As I slowly approach her I realize she’s still asleep, and is whispering “No, please. Jared. Please.” I sit down next to her and place my hand on her shoulder and she jerks away, crying louder.

   “Please, stop, no!” I realize I need to wake her up if I have any hope of calming her down, and put both of my hands on her shoulders this time, calling her name in the hopes that my voice will break her out of her nightmare. After a couple seconds her eyes fly open, but she remains tensed up and can’t seem to focus on anything in the room. I keep rubbing her back and start talking to her quietly.

   “Cam, it’s me, Pippa. Phillipa Soo. It’s October 26th and you’re in upper Manhattan at my apartment. You had a nightmare, but you’re awake now. You’re here with me, love.”

   Cami finally manages to get some of her bearings, and she looks at me with tears stuck in her eyes. “Pippa?” She finally chokes out. Now that she’s more lucid, I scoop her onto my lap, holding her almost like a child while I rest my head on her light brown hair, which is tangled from her tossing and turning. She’s shaking, and I rub my thumbs on her cheeks to try to dry her tears.

   “I’m here Cam, I’m here.” She seems to be calming down now that she’s awake, and I make what I’m about to realize is a giant mistake.

   “You were talking in your sleep, something about…Cami, who’s Jared?” Any comfort or safety that she was feeling is gone in a flash, and she wrenches herself out of my arms and starts pacing in front of the bed. She’s hyperventilating now and has her hands covering her face. She’s muttering to herself, and her vocalizations start to grow in volume until she’s yelling.

   “NO! I CAN’T NO!” I’ve never heard her voice more fearful, and I get up too and go right up to her, wrapping my arms around her. She starts to struggle, and keeps yelling, but I hold her firmly to me as I stroke her hair, whispering whatever comforting words I can think of into her ear. She fights hard, but I have about 3 inches and 20 pounds on her, and I keep her grounded with me, hoping she can feel my heartbeat and breathing and use them to settle her panicking mind. She stops resisting after a couple of minutes, and I feel all the fight leave her body as she becomes dead weight in my arms. I help her walk over to the bed, and we end up in the same position we were in just a little while ago. I think for a minute before I speak this time, careful to avoid anything that could trigger her.

   “Cam, I’m so sorry. I never want to ask you or make you do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable or anxious at all. I want you to feel safe here, with me.”

   “I do.” She leans further into me. “It’s just-it’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

   “Don’t be. You’re perfect, and all of your feelings are valid.” I kiss the top of her head gently. “You wanna break something? Offer still stands.”

   “I think I’m good, thanks though.” She forces a smile.

   “Okay, okay. It’s late, you should go back to sleep.” She grabs a fistful of my tee shirt.

   “Will you stay?”

   “Of course.” That’s how we fall asleep. Cami wrapped up tight in my arms, me desperately trying to hold her close enough to rid her of all the trauma she’s been through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh I can't let anyone be happy can I


	8. you chose a good one

  I’m in line at Starbucks the first time I start questioning my ‘parenting’ skills. It all starts with 5 words.

   “What can I get you?” From the tow-headed, slender barista behind the counter. I quickly place my order, a tall double hazelnut latte, and then the dismay sets in. Cami got a green tea latte last week. I know she likes tea, but how does she like her coffee? Does she even drink coffee?- and oh my god I left a sleeping teenager with some clear attachment issues alone in my apartment! What if she wakes up and I’m gone and- “Ma’am? That’s going to be $8.64.” Oh, right.

   I grab my drinks (I’d ordered another of the same for Cami in my haze) and hurtle towards the subway as fast as the 4 bags of groceries I’m carrying will let me. Walking through my apartment door 13 minutes later, I’m immediately on high alert for any sign of trouble. I drop the bags on the kitchen floor and go into my bedroom, bracing myself for the worst. What I see causes me to let out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. Cami’s still blissfully asleep, in more or less the same position she was in when I snuck out this morning. I close the door as quietly as I can, deciding I’ll let her stock up on some much needed rest.

  I bustle around the kitchen as quietly as possible, which truth be told isn’t quietly at all; at least 2 utensils have hit the floor with alarming crashes. I’ve made scrambled eggs, sourdough toast, and hash browns before I decide Cam’s going to have to get on a normal sleep schedule eventually, so might as well start now. I make my way back into the room with the sleeping girl, pulling up the blinds before sitting on the edge of the bed.

   “Cami? Babe, it’s almost 11. Do you want to wake up?” After a second, she opens one eye and grunts incoherently. “I have coffee!” Now the other eye’s open. I help her sit up a little and hand her the cup, rambling about my trouble deciding what to order her. As I talk I notice her eyes glazing over a little. Is she thinking about last night? I just wish she would open up.

   “-and it’s what I always get so I grabbed you one too!” She just stares back at me blankly. “The coffee?” She looks confused, and I gesture at the cup in her hand.

   “It’s great!” I look suspiciously back at her. I’ve been sitting here this whole time and she hasn’t taken a sip of it. She does now, and apparently it’s still hot, because she yelps, and tries to disguise it as a cough. At this point, I’m just entertained.

   “Come on, I made breakfast.” Maybe I’m imagining it, but I think I see something in her face shift ever so slightly when I make the announcement. Nevertheless, she follows me out to the kitchen and sits while I grab the plates. When I put the food down in front of her, she stares at it for a second like it’s the most complicated math problem she’s ever seen. She then closes her eyes briefly, which is a blessing because it gives me time to rearrange the worried look off of my face. When she opens them again, she picks up her knife and fork and starts dissecting her food with the intensity of a biologist on the brink of a new discovery. I try not to stare, but I notice she divides her hash browns into 4, breaks the piece of bread in half, and carefully sets aside 3 strawberries. She takes a bite and I hold my breath, but relax as she puts on a big smile.

  “Pippa, this is amazing, thank you!” She continues to eat, but stops after she’s finished only about a third of it. After a second of her staring at the plate blankly, I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “Do you think you can eat a little bit more? Just a couple more bites, love.” She nods and I turn to my own food as she starts again. After about a minute I see tears rolling down her cheeks, but she continues to robotically load up her fork and take bites. I gently bring my hand up to her face and brush away her tears with my thumb.

  “It’s okay, you can stop eating. Cami, please stop if it’s hurting you.” As the words leave my mouth, she drops her fork, flinching as it clatters on the ceramic plate. I can tell she’s on the verge of full blown panic, and I corner her in an embrace as she frantically tries to flee the kitchen. She doesn’t fight like she did last night, but clings to me instead.

   “I’m so tired.” The whisper is barely audible, but I hear her. I don’t know what I could possibly say in this moment to make anything any better, and I just pull her closer to me.

      We stand in the kitchen for what might be 5 minutes or an hour, I don’t know. I do know that when she eventually pulls away, all her tears have dried, and I’m hoping my red eyes don’t give away the ones I shed. I can tell she’s praying that I won’t ask, and I don’t. I do however, remind her that it’s Tuesday and I have a show tonight.

   “…and I want you to come to the theatre with me.” She takes a step back, shaking her head.

   “No, I’ll just be in the way. It’s work for you, and I shouldn’t be there distracting-”

   “Cam, I’ve cleared it with the stage manager already, you can just hang out in my dressing room and nap or read or something.” I don’t add this part, but I’m terrified to leave her alone, especially at night. I won’t be able to perform without knowing she’s safe.

  “Also, the girls are begging to see you again. Jasmine’s appointed herself your ‘personal stylist’.” I make sure to include air quotes so she knows they’re Jazzy’s words, and Cami snorts with laughter. “She wants to take you shopping tomorrow, or whenever you’re feeling up to it. She told me she has a vision, don’t ask me what she means by that.” Cami suddenly becomes very interested in the tiles on the kitchen floor.

   “That sounds like a lot of fun, but I, um, don’t really have any money…” She trails off and I jump in.

   “Girl, you have gained about 6 sisters and an Andrew in the past 24 hours who are all BEGGING to buy you clothes. Please don’t worry about money. I’ve got you now. Part of the job, right?” She looks at me, puzzled. “Did other foster parents ever buy you clothes? Like, when you needed them?”

   “The social worker would come by every now and then with hand-me-downs from other kids, or I’d get old clothes from foster siblings…not a lot of new stuff in the system.”

   “Well, I intend to change that. We’re gonna spoil you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

   “Pippa, seriously. I’m fine, I have stuff. You’ve done enough for me already.” I just laugh and shake my head. If she thinks I’m stubborn, she is in for a treat when she hangs out with Jas!

**(massive time skip whoops sorry)  
**

   I glance up from my book as Cami comes in the dressing room and collapses on the couch dramatically.

   “How was class?”  She groans at me in response, and I giggle.

   “He made us do adagio THREE times, and every turn we did all class was from fifth.” At this point Carleigh’s dancer radar must be pinging, because she sticks her head in the door.

   “Turning from fifth is the best way-” She doesn’t get to finish her whole thought, because Cami flings the closest available object at her head. Thankfully, it was just a pillow, but I make a mental note to hide the Grammy statues next time she has a hard ballet class. Carleigh holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Cute leotard,” she offers as an olive branch.

   “Thanks! Pippa bought it for me.” Cami says sheepishly. I snort at this, because ‘bought’ does not even begin to sum up the cajoling that occurred on that trip to the Capezio store. However, the combined persuasive powers of myself and Jasmine were working wonders on Cami’s wardrobe. When her things were dropped off last week, I was shocked to find she had only one battered suitcase with just a few changes of clothes. It was getting colder by the day, and I didn’t need to add “freezing to death” to my list of worries about Cami’s safety. She continued to refuse to come on a major shopping trip, claiming that her ribs still hurt, though that was quickly becoming an invalid excuse. She’d started dancing again yesterday (which in my opinion was far too soon), and claimed she’d had no pain at all in class.

  Because she wouldn’t come to stores with us, Jasmine, Renée, Andrew, and the female ensemble had turned our dressing room into a mini-boutique. Almost daily, someone would come in with a huge bag of clothes they’d purchased, and we’d all make Cami try them on and give us her best runway strut. Today was no different.

   “So I actually had a reason for coming here, besides being violently assaulted,” Carleigh notes as she comes in and ruffles Cam’s hair. “I bear gifts.” She throws a pair of jeans and 2 crop tops on Cami’s lap. “I had to guess on sizing for the pants, let me know if they don’t fit and I can take them back.” Cam sighs, gently but firmly putting the garments back in Carleigh’s hands.

   “Thank you, I really appreciate it, but I really don’t need more clothes.” Carleigh, however, is already up and moving towards the door. I note that she’d left the clothes on the couch behind her.

   “Think of it as a birthday present!”

   “My birthday’s in 5 months.” This is met with a shrug, and Cami sighs, clearly running out of valid excuses. Carleigh, noting this, simply blows her a kiss and skips out of the room.

   “I really hate you guys, you know that right?” She’s trying so hard to reprimand me, but the twinkle in her eyes gives away everything she doesn’t say.

   “And we love you,” I come over to drop a kiss on the top of her head, and am met with silence. It’s not uncomfortable, but the elephant in the room looms large and omnipresent. Cami has yet to reciprocate those three words in any context. It’s not that I blame her, it just saddens me to see the level to which her lack of authoritative trust had developed during her years in the system.

   At the same time, I note with pride that Cami has been letting me in more and more over the past week. She’d woken me up one night last week after she had a nightmare, and while it meant I lost an hour of sleep, I couldn’t contain my happiness that I was the source of comfort she’d sought out. She was getting better about eating, though it remained a subject I had yet to broach with her. What puzzled me about her “food thing,” as Jasmine and I had dubbed it, was that it didn’t seem to follow any pattern typically recognized as a diagnosable eating disorder. Cami had no qualms about “unhealthy” foods like pizza or grilled cheese, but seemed to treat them with the same cautious approach that she had to things like kale and salmon. With Jasmine’s encouragement, I knew I was going to have to say something soon, but the truth was that I didn’t want to pop this bubble of slowly building trust that we’d been in for the past week or so.

   “What are your plans during the show tonight?” Cami has become a permanent fixture in the theatre, to the delight of the cast. While she remains a little shy around some of the tougher looking guys (yet another thing I know we should talk about), she’s bonded quickly with the girls and particularly with Lin, which we all find adorable. The day I introduced them, they’d spent an hour yelling over one another about the underlying implications about the fears of socialism in “Harrison Bergeron,” which Lin had walked in on Cam reading. They would’ve talked longer, but Jonathan eventually kicked Cami out so the two could get in costume. That night when Lin and I stood in the wings during the beginning of “What’d I Miss,” he turned to me with a serious expression on his face.

 ~

   “Cami’s smart.” I nod in agreement.

   “Yeah, she got her GED like last year, and is taking online community college classes.” Lin shakes his head a little, waving his hands like he always does when he’s excited.

   “I mean, sure, but I’m talking really really smart. Like Vanessa. Half of the time the things that come out of her mouth are thoughts that have never crossed my mind. Cami’s like that too. I can tell.” I smile a little, unable to control the pride that surges through me.

   “She’s really special, isn’t she?” Lin nudges my shoulder with his.

   “You chose a good one, Pip.” He then brushes past me and hurtles onstage, hearing the opening chords of Cabinet Battle #1.

~

  Cami’s pulling out her laptop now, another “gift” forced on her, by Lin this time.

   “Somewhere to keep your thoughts,” he’d said.

   “I’m analyzing fairy tales to try to write an essay about society-imposed gender roles. Or something like that.” Renée looks up from her eyeliner at this.

   “You go girl! Smash that patriarchy.” Cami snorts and replies with something sassy about Alexander Hamilton being a womanizer.

  I’m struck by how _right_ this all feels, Cami in the dressing room with the women who have become my sisters. I laugh at the cliché of it all as I think to myself, _look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now._


	9. A confrontation

   Essay written and show performed, Cami and I head back to my apartment. _Our home_ , I think, my heart softening.

  I’m on a kick to give her a “classic cinema education,” though Cam’s unfortunate habit of falling asleep during movies means that she’s seen the beginnings of some really great ones. Tonight’s movie is Easy A, which may not be a classic, but Emma Stone is worth the watch.

   I pop a bag of popcorn and boil water for tea, and Cami and I find ourselves in our usual positions on the couch. She lies with her feet on my lap, propped up with a pillow so she can reach her tea. This is how we always start, but I know that at some point in the next two hours, she’ll move over into my lap, nestled against me. I’m amazed by how comfortable she seems with physical contact, given all she’s been through, but I’m not complaining about her snuggles.

   It’s about 12:30 when the doorbell rings, and Cami glances at me, puzzled.

   “Did you order food?” I shake my head slowly, we’d eaten sushi before the show, and move towards the door as I gesture for Cami to stay put. The doorbell rings again and I jump this time, startled. I look through the peephole and my blood runs cold. I turn to where Cam sits, tense on the couch.

   “Cami. I need you to listen to me. Go in my room and STAY in there. Do you understand?” I know my tone is harsh but I can barely hear what I’m saying over the blood rushing through my ears. Cami disappears down the hall and I let the door swing open slowly, standing in the doorway.

   “Steven.”

   “Phillipa!” He’s been drinking, and I can smell the whiskey on him as he pushes past me to collapse on the couch.

   “Get out of my apartment.” I’m desperately trying to seem firm, but Steven is here, in my apartment, and he’s wearing the flannel I got him for his birthday. He holds a hand out, cutting me off.

   “I jus wanna talk.” He’s slurring his words, and that’s how I know he’s really drunk because he’d always brag that his speech was the last thing to go.

  “Steven, you need to leave. You can’t be here.” I’m praying the door’s thick enough that Cami can’t hear the panic in my voice.

   “Where is she?” If I wasn’t freaked out enough before, this does it.

   “Who are you talking about?” I don’t know why I’m trying to play dumb.

   “That little slut you adopted. Nina works at the hospital. She told me everything.”

  Nina. That’s her name. Somehow knowing she’s a real person and not just a faceless entity makes everything worse.

   “I don’t know why you’re asking me about her. Get out.”

   “You couldn’t have me anymore, so you went out and got a teenager? Bet she’s a good fuck.”

   Something that I didn’t know was breaking finally cracks, and I get about half an inch away from his smug little face. I can hear yelling and I know it’s coming from me, but I don’t know where the words are coming from because all that’s running through my mind is rage. I vaguely sense another body come in between us, but I don’t realize it’s Cami until I hear the _crack_ of his hand striking her face.

   All concern about myself flies out the window, and I throw myself at Steven, screaming at him to get out and get away from her. He continues to stand in the entrance hallway, throwing obscenities at me as fast as I can hurl them back.

   I hear the door open and strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me away from Steven. I start to fight until I see dark curls spilling over my shoulder and realize it’s Jasmine. I look in front of me to see Anthony all up in Steven’s face, pulling out all of his Bushwick upbringing. Jasmine tries to pull me into a hug, but I refuse, frantically looking around for Cami.

   I finally spot her in the corner of the room, arms wrapped around her legs and head buried in her knees. Every part of me wants to wrap my arms around her and never let go, but I know that forcing physical contact on her right now is not the way to go. Instead I crouch down about a foot from her, feeling Jas behind me rubbing circles on my back.

   “Cami? He’s gone.” I glance behind me and that’s true, I figure Anthony has either called the cops or taken him outside to rough him up. She doesn’t move, doesn’t react at all, so I gingerly reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. Her head shoots up at the unknown touch, but I see her relax a little when she locks eyes with me. I hear Jasmine gasp and it takes me a second to process that it’s because of the red mark across Cam’s cheekbone. Hesitantly, I sit closer to Cam, opening my arms. After a second, she climbs into my outstretched arms and I finally break down. All feelings of missing Steven have fled and have been replaced by burning hatred that I feel all the way down to my toes.

   I look at Jasmine again, really registering her presence for the first time. “How did you? I mean-why? How did you know…” Jasmine tips her head at the girl in my arms.

  “Cam called. She was upset, I knew we needed to come.” I lean down to press a kiss to Cami’s forehead.

   “Thank you. God, I’m so sorry Cam. You shouldn’t have gotten involved in this.” Her hair is getting drenched with my tears now, but she stays quiet as Jasmine hands me a tissue.

  Anthony comes back in now, sporting messy hair but looking no worse for wear.

 “He’s gonna leave you alone now, Pip. Don’t worry about that asshole anymore.” He crouches down and wraps his arms around his girlfriend. His chin tips in Cami and my direction and I see the couple have a silent conversation before Jasmine turns to me.

   “You two can’t be alone tonight. Are you okay staying here, or do you want to come back to our place?” I nudge Cami, hoping for a response, but all I get is a twitch.

   “Here is fine; I’m worried about her on the subway this late at night.” Jas nods and gets up off the floor, and I catch her arm. “But you’ll stay?” Jasmine’s eyes soften, and she squeezes my hand with a nod.

   Cami won’t let go of me, so with Jasmine’s help I scoop her up and carry her into my room. Anthony’s pacing in the living room, quietly talking to someone on the phone, and while I think I hear my name I’m too exhausted to investigate. Jasmine perches on the side of the bed, still holding my hand, while I try to get in the most comfortable position I can with Cami still on me like a human koala bear. This whole time, her breath has been coming in short bursts, and I’m relieved to hear it slow down as she drifts off into what I pray will be peaceful sleep.

   I look at Jasmine through tears. “He accused me of using Cam to replace him. He thought I was sleeping w-with” my voice cracks and I end the thought there as Jasmine inhales sharply.

   “That asshole. Phillipa, I’m gonna kill him.”

   “I-I was supposed to keep her safe. I promised, Jas.” Jasmine coos at me and starts tracing circles on the back of my hand with her thumb.

   “And you did, Pip. She’s safe now. This was so beyond your control. Don’t blame yourself.” Cami mumbles something in her sleep and pulls me closer to her, and I nod slowly.

   “She’s safe. She’s here.”

   I spend the first couple of hours that I’m awake the next morning in a haze, not allowing myself to process any of the horrible events of last night. Jasmine calls Amanda, our stage manager, and they both agree that it’s not a bad idea for me to take a couple of days off. Jasmine tells me this and I only vaguely register it. I’m aware that some part of my brain is kicking and screaming at the thought of calling out, but most of my head is concentrating so hard on not processing that there’s no room for anything else.

   Instead, I focus all my efforts on Cami. If I’m having trouble processing, she’s shut down entirely. She hasn’t spoken since she’s woken up, and has attached herself to my side, panicking if I leave the room even for a moment. I’m relieved to see the mark on her cheekbone hasn’t turned into a bruise, but I can’t get the sound of Steven’s hand hitting her face out of my mind.

   At about 11:30, Renée bustles into the apartment, her presence comforting even as she pulls Jasmine aside to talk to her quietly. I can feel them glancing at me, but I don’t return the looks, instead tightening my grip on Cami’s hand as she looks at the two women anxiously.

   There’s a couple words exchanged and then Jasmine and Renée come over to my bed. Jasmine sits down and wraps her arms around Cam, stroking her hair and humming quietly to alleviate the panic that sets in as she’s separated from me. Renée places her hand on my arm.

   “Pippa, let’s go talk for a little bit.” She’s gentle but firm, and nods as I look back at Cami.

   “She’s okay. Jazzy’s got her. Come with me.” She helps me get up and we walk into the kitchen, where Renée hands me a cup of coffee just how I like it; almond milk and just a little bit of sugar. We sit in silence for a while, and when she speaks she puts her mug down on the table.

   “Do you want to press charges?” I shake my head. I’d thought about this last night.

   “If he does anything else I will. But I don’t want to go through all of that. And Cami shouldn’t have to.” Renée nods briefly.

   “So last night was the first time he’s been violent towards you.” This is phrased as a statement, not a question, because she knows she’s right. So do I, and that almost makes it worse. One look into Renée’s eyes and I know I’m safe here with her, and I finally let it all come rushing in.

   Renée lets me cry it all out, only intervening to hand me tissues and rub my back. When no more tears will come, she looks at me expectantly.

   “Better?” I laugh a little, because as always I’ve walked perfectly into her trap, and as always, she was completely correct.

   “Thanks.” I take another sip of my coffee, choosing my next words carefully. “What do I do about her?” I don’t specify who but Renée, as usual, seems to be reading my mind.

   “Everything you’ve been doing, Pip. Keep proving to her that you’re gonna be the exception in this horrible cycle she’s been through.” She hesitates for a second, but keeps talking. “And it wouldn’t hurt for Cami to talk to a professional about some of this. Someone impartial, who can help her for the long term.” She’s right, and I know she is, but I can’t shake my fear of making Cami do anything she doesn’t want to do. I tell Renée this, and she nods sadly.

   “Wait until she’s a little closer to ready then. But at some point she’s going to have stop pretending everything’s fine and- well, look who’s up!” Renée’s sudden change in tone is accompanied by a wide smile, and I look behind me to see Jas walking in with Cami tucked under her arm.

   “Hey lady!” I scoot over on the bench, and Cam presses herself in next to me. My Schuyler sisters have started bustling through the kitchen, Jasmine making snide comments about the kale and chia seeds in my fridge while Renée starts cracking eggs into a bowl.

   Plates are quickly placed in front of us, but Cami ignores hers as she continues to nurse her cup of coffee (half&half only). Jasmine and I exchange a worried look, and I start portioning the food on her plate.

   “Love, can you eat this much for me? Please?” Cami picks up the fork like it weighs one thousand pounds, and cautiously loads it with eggs. She takes 3 tiny bites before she sets it down again, and I feel her starting to shake as I surreptitiously shake my head at Jasmine, letting her know that this is as good as it’s going to get.

  “Let me know if you’re hungry, okay? Whatever you want to eat, we’ll get it.” Cami nods absentmindedly, but has transferred her attention to picking at the skin around her fingernails. I pull her hand down, noticing she’s bleeding, and she goes limp under my touch, flinching away instinctively.

  “No no, fuck; Cam you’re okay, you’re fine. I’m not going to hurt you.” The sound of my voice seems to jolt her back to reality, and I can feel her relax again as Jasmine places a glass of water in front of her on the table. I smile at my friend, knowing this is her way of comforting people. In the days after Steven left me, Jasmine had alternated with tea and orange juice, but made sure I never went thirsty.

   Jasmine and Renée leave for rehearsal shortly after breakfast, with promises to check in later and tell me who is going on as Eliza. Cami and I laze around for a couple of hours, until I suggest we go for a walk around 4. Cami seems agreeable, and puts on warmer clothes and shoes without a fuss, but she freezes as I open the door and step into the hallway. I’m already halfway down the hall when I realize she’s not behind me, and I call out to her, moving back towards the door when I get no response.

   Cami’s standing at the threshold with her hands clenched by her sides. I know her well enough at this point to recognize the look on her face of panic and frustration. I’m at her side in an instant, closing the door and assuring her she doesn’t have to go anywhere, do anything, until she’s 100% ready. Inside though, my mind is racing with worry. She won’t talk, won’t eat, and won’t leave the apartment, and I have a sinking feeling that it’s all my fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Renee Elise Goldsberry may I just say


	10. breaking the silence

   “Pippa, I don’t know how much longer we can keep stalling.” Vanessa’s running her fingers through her hair in frustration, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

   “I know, I know. She’s getting better, I think…”

   “But she still won’t talk. It’s been 4 days, Pippa. CPS is gonna get suspicious if we keep pushing back your home visit. I’m trying to help you cover the Steven thing up, but they’ve gotta come talk to her soon.” I take a sip of my latte, trying to distract myself from the fear building in my chest.

   “I know. And thank you, for everything you’re doing.” Vanessa sighs, and places her hand on mine from across the table.

   “I’m not mad, please don’t think that. Cami belongs with you; that’s clear. We just need to make sure her social worker can see that.” Her eyes soften a little, and she cocks her head.

   “Are you okay? I know this can’t be easy for you.”

   “I am, really. I’m actually just talked to a psychologist, about…everything. And I think that’s good.” I wasn’t lying, the name on the business card Renée had pressed into my hand had proved useful. I had finally admitted all the guilt I felt about everything Cami has been going through, and it was nice to get an objective third party opinion on things.

   Therapy had not been as successful for Cami. I’d gotten her into the office with extensive cajoling and the promise that I’d been there the whole time. However, any hopes I’d had of a breakthrough were crushed as she sat silent on the couch, her hand gripping mine tightly. Sarah the psychologist, was for all purposes ignored, and pulled me aside as Cam walked back into the waiting room.

   “The only advice I can give you right now is don’t pressure her to talk. She clearly trusts you, and she’ll open up when she’s ready. Bring her back when she’s willing to talk a little, but for right now she needs to be with you and know she’s safe. There’s a lot of anxiety there, but I can tell you help with that.” I’d shaken her hand and headed back out to find Cam, assuring her that she’d done great and everything was okay the whole way home.

   “I’ll be in the audience tonight, can’t wait to see you!” Vanessa swept me into a hug before bustling out of the Starbucks, probably off to do something legal and important.

   I headed for Sam’s apartment, where I’d dropped Cam off that morning. _(a/n I know Sam’s in Chicago but I love her so FIGHT ME)_ I’m relieved she’s gotten over her fear of leaving the apartment, because God knows I still have mine about leaving her alone. She came to the theatre for my first show back last night, and things felt fairly normal, though the boys did their fair share of tiptoeing around after I gave them the cliff-notes version of what had happened.

   Sam opens the door when I knock, her hair strung up in some intricate updo that I’m sure is Cami’s doing.

   “It’s just weird,” Sam replies when I ask how their morning was. “She seems completely normal, she just won’t talk.” I nod as Sam voices what we’ve all been thinking.

   “I think she’s so afraid of losing control that she’s completely internalized everything. She’s taken bottling up your feelings to a new extreme.” I stop talking quickly as Cam pokes her head around the corner, a smile spreading across her face as she sees me. She comes over quickly and tucks herself into my embrace, nestling her head into my shoulder.

   “Cuties,” Sam notes. “Cam, you gonna tell Pippa what a holy terror you were, or should I?” She’s teasing, and Cami rolls her eyes and smoothly flips Sam off, which makes her cry with laughter.

   “Don’t encourage her, Pollino.” I’m trying to be serious, but Cam is laughing and if that’s what takes, then that’s what it takes. I glance back at Sam, trying to be surreptitious, and mouth “did she eat?” Sam’s face drops a little, and she shakes her head imperceptibly in response, holding her fingers a centimeter apart and returning my disappointed glance with “a little.” I shouldn’t be disappointed about this; I knew there weren’t going to be any major breakthroughs in the 4 hours I’d been away. Nevertheless, my heart sinks a little lower, especially when I realize I can feel Cami’s spine sticking out through her shirt.

   “I need a nap. Let’s go, Cam.” I usher her out of the apartment, shooting a quick “Thank you” at Sam, who nods and tells us she’ll see us at the theatre tonight.

   After a well-deserved and much needed nap, I cajole Cam into eating about ¾ of a cup of quinoa salad from the deli across the street. It’s not much, but it’s more than I’ve seen her eat in a while and I’m fueled by this victory, small though it may be. I leave her about half a block away from the theatre, and she sneaks in the front while I greet fans at the stage door. We cleared this early on with our company manager, and everyone agreed that Cami didn’t need the added stress of the stage door. When I get into my dressing room, Cami’s not there. I try to contain my panic as I move down the hall, and let out a sigh when I see her on the couch in Lin’s dressing room. I push through the beaded curtain to see Cami wearing Lin’s headphones and intently listening to something coming from his computer. He’s staring at her attentively, trying to read every rise and fall of her eyebrows and crinkle of her nose. She pulls the headphones off after about 30 seconds and hands them back to Lin.

   “What do you think?” Lin asks earnestly, bouncing in his seat. After a second, she breaks into a wide grin and nods. Lin lets out a huge exaggerated sigh and flops on the ground.

    “Oh thank goodness. I’ve made it past my toughest critic.” I giggle at this too, and the two of them jump as they notice me in the doorway for the first time.

   “Closed meeting Pips. Top secret, highly confidential, you know.” Lin snorts a little as he says this, and I whack him lightly on the arm.

   “I’m here to steal my girl back. You’re hogging her.” Lin sticks his tongue out at Cam and me as we leave, though he winks at me and mouths “good luck,” once she’s turned around.

   I take a deep breath as Cam and I walk into my dressing room, knowing that what I have planned sounds a little crazy and could potentially blow up in my face.

   Lin gave me the idea initially. Anthony blew up one day in rehearsal, frustrated and tired, and declared himself useless and un-talented and threatened to quit. I watched as Lin sat him down in the first row of the theatre, speaking rapidly to him in Spanish while he slowly calmed down. Jazzy approached Lin later and thanked him for helping with Ant’s breakdown, and what Lin said stuck in my mind.

   “When I’m really upset, my brain stops working in English. I figured it was the same for Anthony. Spanish calms him down.” I’d thought back to the first time Cami and I got coffee, when she told me she speaks French, and enlisted Andrew a couple days ago to help me string some basic thoughts together. Patting my pocket to make sure I have my cheat sheet on me, I mentally review.

   She sits down in her usual spot on the couch, but seems puzzled when I sit down next to her, instead of at my usual place in front of the mirror to start my makeup. She’s even more puzzled when I start speaking in what I’m sure is horrible French.

   “Cam, je pense que tu es extraordinaire. Tu me rends heureuse, tu me fais rire. Tu ne dois pas parler jusqu'à ce que tu es prêt. Je t’attendrai.” I’m focusing so hard on not screwing up verb conjugations that I’m not paying very much attention to Cami’s face until I stop talking. She grabs my hands with both of hers and looks me dead in the eyes. My heart is racing and if her face is any indication, so is Cami’s mind. She opens her mouth a couple times but nothing happens, and tears start to well up in her eyes as she clears her throat, clearly frustrated. I start drawing random shapes on her palms with my thumbs, encouraging her to keep trying. She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them, her eyes are shining.   

   “Pippa?” The sound of her voice, rusty from underuse, makes my heart leap. I nod, trying to keep the tears at bay.

   “Yes, Cam?”  She leans in a little, more confident this time.  

  “Je t’aime.” I recognize this phrase from my three years of high school French, and pull her into my lap, burying my head in her hair.    

   “I love you too, Cam. More than you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS it got happy? Maybe? french translations tho:  
> Pip says: Cami, I think you're extraordinary. You make me smile, you make me laugh. You don't have to talk until you're ready. I'll wait for you.  
> and Cami says I love you (I know je t'aime literally translates to I like you but we're talking colloquial french don't come for me)


	11. one step at a time

  “I told you, I’m not hungry. It’s fine.”   

  I mentally reprimand myself, naïve for thinking that Cami finding her voice would be the end of her problems. We’d gone out to dinner after the show, as a mini-celebration for what Lin joyously called her Ariel moment.  

   “Ursula finally gave it back, huh?” He asked with mock seriousness, though the tears running down his cheeks as he hugged her gave away his true relief.    

   Arriving at the restaurant was fine, we got waters for the table. But when the waiter went around taking orders, Cami cheerfully announced that she didn’t want anything and placed her menu on the pile. I pulled her aside, into the corner by the bathroom, where we stood now.   

    “What about a salad? Or a cup of soup?” I’m begging and I know how desperate I must sound, but Cami stands her ground.  

   “I don’t want you to pay for food that gets wasted. Or for it to get wasted at all. Pippa, it’s fine.” I let out a bit of a laugh at the ridiculousness of that last statement.  

   “It’s not actually. It’s not fine because you haven’t eaten a full meal in _weeks_. So don’t pull that with me. It’s not okay because something’s going on and you’re hurting and I just want you to talk to me. Please.” She takes a step back while I’m talking, but I know this is a lot. I haven’t ever been this direct with her and I know this isn’t the time or the place but it just slipped out. Cami looks for a second like she’s going to say something, and then she brushes past me back to the table, sliding in her seat a couple of seconds before I do. Jasmine glances at the sullen teen beside me and shoots me a sympathetic look.  

   “No dice?” She asks, quietly enough so Cam can’t hear. I shrug and study the place setting in front of me while Jas pats my back encouragingly.    

   The subway ride back after dinner is quiet. Neither of us feel much like talking, and I can practically hear the gears in Cam’s mind whirring as she bites her lip like she always does when she’s thinking. We both groan when we see the out-of-order sign on the elevator, but resume silence as we dutifully climb the stairs to the 5th floor. Back in the apartment, we bustle around each other, familiar enough with our nighttime routine that words aren’t needed.  

     “I talked to the boys today, and I think we’re good to clear out your room tomorrow! You can finally stop sleeping on the couch!”  

     Cami’s deep in thought, and responds a full ten seconds later with an unfocused “Great! Thanks!” I desperately want to ask her what she’s thinking about, but I know better than to confront her twice in one night. I consign myself to the knowledge that she’ll come to me when she’s ready.   

    At about midnight, I’m lazily scrolling though Instagram, telling myself I’ll get up any second now to go say goodnight to Cami. When I glance up, she’s standing in my doorway, wearing sweatpants and a too-big Julliard sweatshirt that looks suspiciously familiar.  

   “Can I talk to you?” Her voice is small but sure, though I see her picking at the skin around her thumbs, a clear sign that she’s nervous. I pat the bed beside me, gesturing for her to come in. She perches precariously, then gets up and starts pacing. I’m about to suggest we try again tomorrow when she suddenly speaks.  

   “I’m not anorexic,” she blurts out. I cock an eyebrow but stay silent, assuming there’s more to this. “I don’t-I don’t think I’m fat. It’s not like that. That’s not…” She trails off, and I decide to step in.  

   “That’s not why you have so much trouble with food?” I’m treading carefully, knowing one misstep could shut her down for a while, but she looks at me with wide eyes and nods. After a couple seconds of silence, I decide to go for it.  

   “Do you know why, then? Do you think you can talk about it?” Still pacing, Cami nods, now wringing her hands.  

   “It’s like- so the whole time I’ve been in the system, other people have made every important decision for me. Where I live, where I sleep, where I go to school. But I figured out a couple of years ago that I could control what I ate. No one could force me to eat if I chose not to. So it became almost like a game I’d play with myself. Before I’d start eating, I’d decide how much I was going to eat, and I couldn’t eat more than that. But now, I have to do it, I have to decide, and I can’t eat more even if I want to, and I hate it and I hate myself for doing it. I’m sorry.”   Standing up, I put my hands on Cami’s shoulders, steadying her.   

    “Thank you so much for trusting me with this. We’re gonna figure it out. Together, okay? One step at a time, right?” She moves closer to me, pressing our foreheads together.  

  “One step at a time.”  

   “Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” She nods and climbs under the covers, snuggling against my side as I join her. I’m assuming she’s asleep when she speaks again, barely whispering,  

   “Pippa?” I hum in response, too sleepy to form a full-fledged thought.

   “For what it’s worth, I’ve never felt more in control than I do now, here. With you.” I smile as I press a kiss to the top of her head.    

   “That’s worth a lot, love.”   

   The next morning, I drag Cami to the grocery store, armed with reusable shopping bags.    

   “Remind me why I’m being herded around before 9 am?” Cami asks, sleep still clouding her voice.   

    “You’re gonna help me shop. And then you’re gonna help me cook. You are so in charge of what you’re eating.” Cami glances at me out of the corner of her eye, then takes my hand, her sigh of relief audible throughout the mostly deserted subway car. 

     We stroll through the grocery store, hitting nearly every aisle, as I do my best to surreptitiously coax Cam into choosing food. True to her word, she doesn’t shy away from junk food, but insists that yes, we do need two kinds of goldfish. We hesitantly plan a menu for the week, easy things like curry and spaghetti squash, and I’m relieved to see Cam’s apparent enthusiasm about our culinary escapades. In our now completely deserted subway car on the way home, surrounded by bags and bags, I let Cam rest her head on my shoulder.  

   “I’m proud of you.” She scoffs.  

   “For what?”  

     “For coming to me last night. For coming with me this morning. It takes so much strength to admit you need help.”  

   “Thank you... I love you.” I’m still getting used to hearing those words come out of her mouth, and my heart does the little flip-flop it does every time. Maybe I’m doing something right.

   Back at the apartment, we’re cut off at the elevator door by two towering, muscular guys in hoodies.

   “Pipppaaaaa,” Oak whines. “You promised us coffee.” Daveed nods, trying to conceal a massive yawn with the sleeve of his Oakland sweatshirt.

    “She made you wake up early too? She is on a roll today,” Cami laughs, taking Daveed up on his offer to grab a grocery bag.

   “Okay, _children_ , I’ll make coffee. Boys, can you start moving out all the boxes in the spare room?” I snag Cam to help me unload groceries as the boys grumble off down the hallway. Daveed thinks he’s out of earshot, but I can hear the rap he’s composing about being used for free labor. Reaching above the stove to put away the Special-K, I glance at Cami.

   “Are you okay with them being here? Sorry, I should’ve asked you. I can kick them out though, if you want.” I really did mean to check with her more in depth, but the events of last night distracted me.

   “Yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t it be fine?” I hesitate for a second, ultimately deciding that-“Because you keep having nightmares about someone named Jared and I have a sneaking suspicion there’s a lot of stuff in your past I don’t know about,” is not a good answer. I settle for

  “No reason, just wanted to check.” She looks like she might say something else, but we’re interrupted by a resounding crash and series of incredibly creative curse words from down the hall. I head for the source of the commotion, Cami hot on my heels, and open the door to find Daveed rubbing his foot while Oak stands sheepishly holding an empty cardboard box. Looking down at the metal bookshelf pieces scattering the floor, I try to hold in an exasperated sigh.

   “Okay, clearly you need supervision.” I sink down on the chair in the corner, gesturing at them like a queen to her subjects. “Proceed.”

   “Honestly Cami, it’s a good thing we like you,” Oak shoots over his shoulder. “The way I’m being treated here is wholly unacceptable.” He shoots me a wink, letting me know he’s kidding. I pull Cami onto my lap, and we start brainstorming ideas for her room, my heart full at the idea that she’ll finally have some place to call her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been a while! I'm sorry folks, it's tech week and college is a thing, but I have not abandoned you I promise.


	12. doctors and decorating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is nothing wrong with admitting you’re struggling. No one expects you to be strong all the time."

   “You doing okay?” I glance over at the trembling teen beside me, her pissed-off look telling me everything I need to know. “Sorry I asked.” I don’t get a laugh out of this, but Cami lets me take her hand, which I give a gentle squeeze. “You know it’s all going to be fine, right? I’ll be there the whole time. Or not-whatever you want me to do.”

   “Camille?” Cami’s already vice-like grip on my hand tightens as we both look up at the nurse wearing blue scrubs with what look like dancing teddy bears on them. I’m waiting for Cami to make the first move, indicating to me that she’s not as uncomfortable as she seems, when the nurse’s shrill voice sounds through the waiting room again.

   “Camille Beckett?” This time I sigh and stand up, bringing with me a clipboard full of forms and a very reluctant 16-year-old. To her credit, Cami allows her height and weight to be taken without a fight, though I see her flinch when the nurse clicks her tongue as she records her weight. We’re led to an exam room, and the nurse pulls me aside as she ushers Cami in.

   “Her chart indicates that there’s a history of abuse?” I nod hesitantly, not sure if she’s looking for an answer. “Okay. We’re gonna go ahead and follow protocol for that. Would she be more comfortable with a male or female doctor? I don’t hesitate this time.

   “Female. Definitely.” The nurse makes another note on her clipboard, then opens the door, barring me from entry.

   “Hang on, Camille’s over 15 so she has to give permission for you to be in the room. I’m gonna go ask her now.” I roll my eyes a little at this, but let her pass me. She opens the door about 30 seconds later and beckons me inside, and I resist the urge to shoot her a side eye. Cami’s standing in the middle of the unnecessarily cheerful exam room, digging at the skin around her right index finger and seemingly trying to memorize the pattern of sea creatures that borders the room right under the ceiling. At the nurse’s prompting, Cami reluctantly climbs onto the exam table. I ignore the chair that’s offered to me, choosing to stand by Cam and hold her (now freezing cold) hand.

   The exam is not as painful as I think either of us imagined it would be. The doctor is a sweet and soft-handed woman who insists we call her Allison and reminds me more than a little bit of Renée, instantly easing some of my fears. She explains each step of the physical as she does it, and asks Cami for permission each time she touches her. Cami is by no means relaxed, but she seems to have let her guard down a little bit, answering Allison’s questions about dance and school with apparent ease. She even allows me to step outside for a minute so Allison can speak to her privately. Having finished her thorough examination, Allison sits in her swivel chair and starts entering numbers into the computer.

   “Okay…everything looks good, though I would like to see you gain 8 or 9 pounds, Cami. You’re a little underweight, especially considering your age.” Cami shoots a panicked look at me, but we’d talked about this last night and I know she knows the plan. Calmly and checking in with Cam every few seconds, I fill Allison in on the whole deal with food, paraphrasing Cami’s words from a couple of nights ago. Allison, thankfully, doesn’t bat an eye, but grabs a sticky note and hands it to me after scribbling something down.

   “That brand makes meal replacement shakes. They’re about 300 calories, and taste fairly good. They’re a good supplemental option for kids with eating disorders.” Beside me, Cami flinches at the words “eating disorder,” but I know Allison’s not incorrect in labeling it as such. “The number on there is for an adolescent psychiatrist in midtown who’s really, really great. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to see about getting something to help with your anxiety, and I think that could help with eating as well.” She’s directly addressing Cami now, but she’s switched her focus to intensely fiddling with my watch, and refuses to make eye contact with the doctor.

   “We’re almost done here. Phillipa, could I have a word with you outside really quickly?” I check with Cami quickly, who nods and releases my hand, then step outside with Allison.

   “You’re doing a really great job with her, you know.” I nod a little, refusing to take credit.

   “She’s worth it.”

   “You’re her eighth home in 7 years, do you know that?” I inhale sharply, shaking my head.

   “I just wish I knew how to help her.” Allison places a hand on my arm and smiles.

   “Keep doing what you’re doing. You can’t undo 7 years of damage in a month. Take it one day at a time, help her celebrate small victories. And you have the number here, call if you have any questions. Alright?”

   “Thank you. So much.” I’m so scared of messing up with Cami, and having someone like Allison tell me that I’m doing it right means more than she knows.

   We’re in the Uber on our way home when Cami looks at me with concern painted across her face. 

   “Do I have an eating disorder?” I choose my words carefully as I lift up her chin with my hand.

   “Maybe. That’s what Allison seems to think it is, in any case. But we’re gonna go see the psychiatrist she recommended, and we’re gonna get you help.” Cami doesn’t respond, but I see a flicker of shame pass through her eyes. “Okay. Real talk. You know there’s absolutely no shame in needing to see a psychiatrist, or a therapist, or anything like that, right?” She looks away and mumbles something I can’t quite hear. “Cam, you know I go to therapy, right?”

   “Yeah, but-”

  “Renée recommended her therapist to me, because she thought I could use someone to talk to. There is nothing wrong with admitting you’re struggling. No one expects you to be strong all the time.” Cami looks at me for a long time, then sighs.

   “I’ll go.”

   ‘What?”

   “To the-the psychiatrist or whatever. I’ll go.” I wrap her in a huge hug, taking Allison’s note to celebrate small victories.

   “I’m proud of you.” I can practically _hear_ Cami roll her eyes at me, and I give her a playful shove as we pull up in front of my building.

   As I walk into the living room, I’m startled though honestly not all that surprised to find Andrew, Jasmine, and Sam sitting on my couch peering at the computer on Jasmine’s lap.

   “I’m telling you. We go fun bedspread, plain walls. The chevron one.” Andrew cuts Sam off, quieting her with a hand over her mouth.

   “Quiet, peanut. Solid colored bedspread, wall tapestry. That’s much trendier right now than some college-dorm looking chevron mess.” I clear my throat from behind them, causing all three of my intruders to jump.

   “Glad to know your spare key in case of emergencies works, Jasmine.” She blows me a kiss, then goes back to browsing PB teen’s website, ignoring the continuing fight between our castmates on her right and left. Cami comes to stand behind me, leaning down to wrap her arms around Jasmine’s neck.

   “Is this for my room?” Noticing her for the first time, Andrew slams down the lid of the computer, turning to wag a finger in Cam’s face.

   “Top secret project, I can’t say a thing. In fact, you probably shouldn’t be here.” Cami glances around, exasperated.

   “I live here?” Jumping to Cami’s rescue, I place a hand on my hip.

   “Why are you doing this _here_ anyways? Don’t you all have homes?” Jasmine mumbles something about me having faster wifi, while Andrew raises a mug and tells me I have better coffee than he does. Sam, however, looks at me apologetically.

   “They told me you were okay with this. I honestly thought you knew.” Jasmine tackles her to the floor as she says this, while Andrew protests earnestly, claiming they did no such thing. Noticing Cami’s gone to the bathroom, Jasmine pulls me closer.

   “We are designing Cam’s room. We want it to be a surprise though, so don’t let her in there for the next couple of days until we’re done.”

   “Ooh, can I see?” I lean over to take a glance at the paper on the coffee table, when it’s unceremoniously snatched away from me.

   “You’re funny.” Jasmine’s guarding the paper with fierce eyes. “No can do. You’re a security risk.” I make a big show of rolling my eyes and stomping off to my room, but secretly I’m touched that my friends care enough to want to do this for my-my- I realize that I still haven’t figured out what to call Cam. She’s too old to be my kid, but “foster sister” doesn’t make sense.

   All thoughts of what to call her are pushed aside as I open the door to my bedroom. Cami’s lying on the floor shaking, a newly received text message open on her phone where it lies in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *exhales loudly* talking about mental health is hard, folks. Yay Pippa for giving it a shot.


	13. The truth comes out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOAH buckle your freaking seatbelts I'm so sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the cliffhanger and the wait but hopefully this ridiculous amount of angst will cheer you up-no? ah well

_Cami’s lying on the floor shaking, a newly received text message open on her phone where it lies in front of her._

   The first thing I do is swipe the phone, determined to find the source of her panic. What I see makes me feel sick to my stomach. There’s a text from an unknown number reading “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. You’re mine, princess.” Putting the phone down, I slowly reach out towards Cami’s trembling body.

   “Cam? Can you tell me who that text is from?” She doesn’t answer, but I’m not entirely sure she’s heard me either, as hard as she’s trying to keep herself together. I glance at the text again, and then a wave of realization hits me, hard.

   “Cami? Is it from Jared?” At the sound of his name, Cami falls into a million pieces, crying loud enough to bring Andrew, Sam, and Jasmine running from the living room. I didn’t think this was possible, but their presence makes her panic even more. Jasmine and I come to an understanding at the same time, and she turns, putting her hands on Andrew’s shoulders.

   “You need to leave. You can’t be in here.” He starts to protest, but then Jasmine whisks him out into the hallway and I can hear her talking in a low voice. I’m still trying to calm Cami down, but she’s frantically pulling away from any touch beyond a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her breathing’s at a rate that’s making me worried she’s going to pass out, and I don’t have to take her pulse to know that her heart’s beating out of her chest. I feel Sam kneel down beside me and take my hand.

   “Pressure’s good.”

   “What?” I’m so focused on Cami’s panicked eyes that I don’t hear her.

   “For panic attacks. Do you have a bunch of blankets?” I nod, trying to find the words to tell her where they are, but only incoherent sentences come out. “Go grab them, Pip. I’ve got her.” I stand up, running to the linen closet, and grab a handful of comforters and knitted afghans from my great-aunt. Jasmine grabs my arm as I run by her. Andrew’s nowhere to be found, and I assume he’s gone home.

   “Is she safe here? Do we need to move her to my apartment?”

   “No-no I think it’s okay. She’s-I’ll explain later.” Jasmine follows me back into my room, taking a couple of the blankets out of my arms. Sam is still crouched on the floor by Cami, drawing circles on her shoulder while she talks to her quietly. Looking up as we come in with blankets, Sam nods.

   “Hey Cami, we’re gonna put some blankets on you. I think it’ll calm you down, but tell me if you want us to stop.” Cam’s still shaking, and is now clutching her chest as her breath comes in and out in short, ragged gasps. I lie down and scoot closer so my face is only a couple of inches away from hers, though I’m careful not to touch her. I slowly and carefully take her hand as Sam and Jasmine start laying blankets on her. By the time she’s covered in 5, if she’s still shaking we can’t tell.

   Over the next ten minutes, I watch Cami’s breathing return to normal, though tears continue to roll down her cheeks. Worried about moving her to the bed, I gently lift up her head and torso and move over so she’s lying in my lap. After another ten minutes of stroking her hair while Jasmine quietly sings jazz, she’s passed out cold, not even twitching when Sam’s phone goes off with a text from her agent and she panics to silence it.

   “Shit, she’s out.” Jasmine notes.

   “Panic attacks wreak havoc on your nervous system. Especially one this serious. She’s probably exhausted.” I glance at Sam, wondering why she knows this much about panic attacks, but Jasmine asks before I get a chance to.

   “My little sister had really severe anxiety when she was little. I did a lot of research, learned the best ways to deal with them. But-Pippa? Do you know what triggered this?” I take a deep breath, leaning over to grab Cami’s phone where it’s lying on the floor. Unlocking it, I hand it to my friends to read the text message.

  “What the hell…do you know who it’s from?” Jasmine hands me back the phone and I explain everything I know about this Jared, which admittedly isn’t that much.

   “We need to get her to talk when she wakes up. If he’s serious about the threat, she needs to go to the police.” I’ve never seen Sam this serious, and I know the protective look on her face is probably mirrored on mine.

   “Okay. I’ll call Vanessa after we talk to Cam, try to get her perspective on things.” I’m trying to control them, but the tears leak down my cheeks when I think about someone hurting the frail, innocent girl curled up in my lap. Even in her sleep, she’s clutching the hem of my tee-shirt tightly, seemingly afraid I’ll leave her. I lean down and wipe away the stray mascara on her cheeks from her tears, moving deliberately slowly to keep her asleep.

   “It’s alright love. I’m not going anywhere.” I feel movement beside me as Jasmine and Sam move in to flank me on either side, offering soft hands and words of encouragement that don’t mean much, but have a calming effect nonetheless.

   Sam leaves shortly after to go to the audition her agent called her about, so it’s just Jasmine and me there when Cami blearily opens her eyes about 50 minutes later. There’s a moment of utmost serenity when she notices that she’s nestled in my lap, but then she blinks and the panic and fear that too often make a home in her eyes set in. I help her sit up as Jasmine disappears out of the room, returning a couple of minutes later with a mug and a bowl of goldfish.

   After consulting with Cam, we move from the floor to my bed, propping up pillows as Jasmine and I exchange pointed glances in regards to getting her to open up. I get up to go to the bathroom, coming out to see Cami leaning against Jasmine’s shoulder, giggling at something she’s said. The sound of Cami’s laugh, musical and easy, fills my heart like it always does, and I feel bad knowing the next thing I say will likely bury that laugh far away. Sitting down on the bed, I look first at Jasmine, who smiles encouragingly, and then back at Cam.

   “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now.” The sentence isn’t fully out of my mouth yet when her smile drops and she sets her jaw firmly, bracing herself for what’s coming next. “That text that…he sent you, it’s a threat. And in the interest of keeping you safe, because that’s all we want to do,” Jasmine nods and hums quietly in agreement at this. “Do you think you could explain what’s going on? Who he is, why you think he sent it, how you know him?”

   “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” She asks quietly.

   “You always have a choice, Cam. I think you’re going to be safest if you can let us know what’s going on, but I swear to you that no one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.” There’s a couple moments of quiet, the sounds of uptown traffic floating up and permeating the windows. Cami grabs a pillow and wraps her arms around it, and when she speaks she’s careful to make eye contact with anything but Jasmine or me.

   “It was my third foster home in 6 months. The one before it wasn’t all that bad, they pretty much left me alone, but the husband lost his job and I was one too many mouths to feed, though that’s ironic considering…” She trails off here, hesitant to talk about the neglect that I’m horrified to think was a normal part of her childhood.

   “This new family, the Walkers. My social worker told me that they had a kid, and I knew I wasn’t going to be there long. Real kids usually can’t handle having foster kids around.” My heart breaks when she says ‘real kids,’ but I’m scared to interrupt her even with a touch, fearful that she won’t be able to start again.

   “I met the kid-first couple of minutes there. He was a couple of years older than me, and I remember being a little taken aback at how nice he was to me, telling me that he wanted me to feel like a member of the family, helping me unpack. Jared.” A shudder runs through her as she says his name, and I feel Jasmine take my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

   “His parents-the Walkers- were out of town a lot, on business trips or whatever, so it was just me and him a lot of the time. We’d cook together, and sit together on the bus, and I started thinking maybe I’d found a friend in him. He would- sometimes, he would sit really close to me on the couch, or he would put his hand on my thigh on the bus. But it was better than a lot of other homes so I ignored it.

   And then-then he started coming into my room at night. He’d bring me flowers, or candy, and then he’d say that he deserved a thank you for the presents. And he’d call me princess. He always called me princess.” Her voice cracks at this point and I forgo any previous reservations and pull her to me, wiping away her tears with a tissue Jasmine hands me.

   “You can stop if you need to, babe. We can take a break.” Cami shakes her head, teetering on the verge of semi-hysterics, and continues to talk, winding her hands into my shirt.

   “At first it was just kissing. Then he’d-he’d make me take my clothes off and-and…he’d” She trails off and buries her face in my neck, sobbing quietly. Jasmine sits up, anger blazing in her dark eyes.

   “Cami.” Her voice is low and calm, but insistent, and it pulls Cami away from me a little to look at her. Jasmine takes both of Cami’s hands in hers, looking her directly in the eye. “Did he ever rape you?” Cami shakes her head a little, and Jasmine breathes out, audibly.

   “He-I think he was going to. One night, he was mad because I walked home from school instead of riding the bus with him. He was really mad, and he was-he was gonna-when his dad walked in. His dad was pissed…at me mostly. For ‘fucking his son,’ his words. That was when I left their house. But he still has my number…I guess. I haven’t heard from him in years though. So I just kind of freaked out when I got the text. I’m sorry. I know Andrew was here and I didn’t mean to-and you had to deal with me at the doctor this morning and god, I’m so sorry Pippa I’m sorry I’m-”

   This time it’s both of us who reach out to Cami, and we nestle her between us, trying to come up with the right words-any words-that’ll ease her pain. I know I need to leave the story alone, and give Cami some time to heal, but there’s one question that sticks in my brain.

   “Cam? How old were you when-when you were living with the Walkers?” Cami doesn’t look at me, her voice full of shame.

   “Twelve.” I feel Jasmine’s shoulders start to shake at this, and I know she’s trying to hold her emotions in like I am, trying to be strong so Cami doesn’t have to be. I stand up slowly, prying my shirt out of Cami’s grasp and reattaching her to Jasmine. It kills me to leave her right now, but I know she’s safe with Jas and that I need to talk to Vanessa and not break down in front of Cam.

   Safely out on the balcony, I lean over the railing and let the tears fall. I’m afraid and sad and above all, I am so unbelievably angry at anyone and everyone who thought it was remotely okay to hurt Cam. The girl who’s brought so much joy into my life. The only thing I want to do is to keep her safe, but how can I do that when the danger’s already there inside her head? Not even attempting to wipe my cheeks dry, I take my phone out of my pocket and scroll until I find the number I’m looking for. My voice breaks two syllables into “Hi, Vanessa,” and I can hear the maternal concern in her voice when she cuts me off.

   “Is it Cami? I’ll be right over.” She leaves me with a dial tone buzzing in my ear.

   I desperately try to pull myself together before I go back into my bedroom, determined to keep it together for Cam. The girl I’d do anything for.


	14. bullets in the kitchen

   The air conditioner whirrs on with a low buzz and sends a shiver through me for what feels like the thousandth time since Cami disappeared through the door in front of me. To my left, an officer taps her pencil against the desk, making me jump when it hits harder than I expect. Logically, I know the door is probably sound proofed and that there’s likely a couple more walls separating us, but I long to press my ear up against it to listen for some sign, any sign, that Cami’s alright.

   Shortly after Vanessa arrived at our apartment, hurriedly sticking pins in a half hazard French twist, the three of us were off to the police station, Vanessa rifling through Cami’s file on the train, desperately searching for evidence that would confirm Cami’s allegations and keep the situation from delving into a ‘he said-she said’ scenario. With whispered instructions not to speak unless she okayed it, Vanessa took off down the long hallway now hidden by the door, ignoring the shouts from the tapping officer at the front desk. Cami and I sat in stiff-backed chairs in the waiting room, widening our eyes at each other in regards to the handcuffed woman who sat in front of us, yelling to anyone who would listen that she had been framed.

   When Vanessa came back out, she brought with her a flustered-looking woman with a nametag that read “Officer Loren.”

   “Cami,” Vanessa said. “Do you think you can tell her what you told Pippa and me earlier? I’ll be with you the whole time.” Cami no longer had enough energy in her to put up a fight, and we both stood wearily. However, Vanessa was quick to push me back into my seat, muttering something about idiotic bureaucracy and not leading the witness during testimony. With a sympathetic glance over her shoulder, Vanessa vanished behind the door again, this time with one hand planted firmly on Cami’s back.

   I spent these last twenty minutes wishing I’d fought to be in the room with Cami while she gave her statement, but knowing Vanessa’s there eases some of my worries. Vanessa, to quote Lin, is “super fucking smart,” but I know her top-notch BS detector is what’s keeping Cami safe in there.

   The air conditioner buzzes on again, but I barely notice it as the door creaks open, as if to accompany the humming from the box in the window. Cami, looking a little shaken up, slips under Vanessa’s arm and hurtles towards me, and I pull her close as I cock an eyebrow at Vanessa, asking the question I don’t need to say out loud. Vanessa wobbles her hand at me, so-so, then draws her fingers down her cheeks, indicating the crying I’ve already assumed took place based on Cami’s red-rimmed eyes. After a couple of seconds, Cami pulls away and I press a quick kiss to her temple before sitting her down and walking over to where Vanessa’s beckoning me.

   “Between her statement, notes from her social worker, and transfer papers for her switch out of the Walker’s house, I think we’ve got a pretty solid case. They took her phone to track the texts, and they have enough evidence to get a warrant and arrest Jared if they can find him.” This is good news, and Vanessa beams as we both glance back at where Cami sits, knees drawn up to her chest.

   “So what do we do now?”

   “Take your girl home. You have a show tomorrow, and you two are potentially in for a long couple of days.” Grabbing Cami’s hand, I lead her into the elevator, carefully studying her face for any trauma from the interview.

   “I don’t know if you heard Vanessa, but you did it, love. They’re gonna take him into custody.” Cami looks at me intently.

   “Really?” She’s skeptical, and I don’t blame her given her poor history with authority figures.

   “Really. You’re safe.” She nods, blinking at me through watery eyes. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

   “I’d honestly rather go hoooooome.” As she stifles a huge yawn, Cami’s exhaustion soon becomes evident to me and I nod, pulling her beanie down so it covers her ears.

   “You’re right. It’s late. Let’s go home.”

   The next morning, I wake up to the smell of coffee and a whir that I vaguely recognize as the Nutribullet. Realizing she’s no longer snuggling beside me, I equate the noises in the kitchen to Cami and tell myself I’ll get up to join her in two minutes. Two minutes quickly turn into ten, and I’m half asleep again when I hear a crash and a voice I’d recognize anywhere scream “SHIT!”

   I’m out of bed and hurtling into the kitchen in a matter of seconds, ready to rescue Cam from whatever culinary hole she’s dug herself into this time. Sure enough, Cami’s holding the lid of the bullet, but the contents, some sort of green liquid, are dripping down her torso, the container still skittering across the floor. I hear gasping behind me and whirl around to see Ariana, our own personal bullet, clutching the countertop to keep her upright as she shakes with laughter. I laugh a little too, mostly at the fact that none of this strikes me as anything out of the ordinary. Cami’s accidents in the kitchen have pretty much been par for the course since we’ve started cooking together, and I have a sneaking suspicion Jasmine’s been lending people copies of my key based on how many unannounced visitors we’ve had in the past couple weeks.

   Ari, still trying to pull herself together, hands me a cup of coffee.

   “We made smoothies!” Cami, for being covered in said smoothie, looks fairly pleased with herself, and licks the back of her hand experimentally. “Oooh, it’s good!”

   “I have not had enough coffee to deal with this,” I joke as I sit on a stool at the counter, hopefully out of the blender’s firing range. Cami goes to take a shower and change out of her messy pajamas, and Ari pours me a glass of the offending green substance.

   “Okay, I’m a little upset that this got wasted on Cami’s shirt,” I say, taking another sip. Ari beams at me, drinking her own.

   “It’s got spinach and avocado in it, so it’s pretty healthy. I figured it would be easier for Cam to handle, considering, you know…” She trails off and I nod. Just then, my phone rings, blasting the marimba ringtone that Anthony set as a joke weeks ago and I’ve forgotten to change. I see Vanessa’s number and pick up quickly, indicating to Ari that I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.

   When I get back to the kitchen, Cami’s wearing a giant sweater and clean leggings and has her hair wrapped up in a towel.

   “Glad to see you’re clean,” I try to joke, but Ari catches a glimpse of my face and can instantly tell something’s wrong. She finishes cleaning up the blender and leaves quickly, blowing kisses.

   As soon as the door closes behind her, Cami turns to me, suddenly serious.

   “What is it?”

   “You can-” I’m initially surprised that Cami can read me this well, but cut myself off when I realize I can do the same for her. Hardly surprising, considering we’ve been attached at the hip for the past month.

  “Vanessa called.”

  “And…?”

   “And they have him at the station. Jared.”

   “Okay? Isn’t that a good thing?”

   “Yes, but, they, they need you to go in. To identify him.” Cami’s up in a second, nearly tipping over my mug in her haste to get up.

   “Why? Why, if they know it’s him?” I shake my head, hands out in front of me in what I hope is a calming gesture.  

   “I don’t know, protocol I guess. I can be with you this time though. The whole time. And it’s through a two-way mirror. He won’t be able to see you, won’t even know you’re there.” Drawing a shaky breath in, Cami braces herself against the door frame.

   “Now?” My hesitant nod is enough of an answer, and to my surprise, Cam lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Let’s fucking do this.”

   Any bravery she exhibited in the kitchen vanishes as the elevator doors close, and I hear her counting to herself under her breath, practicing the techniques we’ve been working on to control her panic attacks. As we zoom up to the twenty-third floor, I feel her hand reach out and I automatically place it on my wrist, letting her use my pulse, which I hope is steadier than hers, to ground herself. The doors slide open to reveal Vanessa, dressed in a black blazer, with Sebastian on her hip.

   “Sorry, Lin had to go to- something, and his parents are in California, and”

   “You’re fine! Thanks for meeting us here on such short notice.” I poke the toddler in the stomach lightly, and he giggles uproariously.

   "Of course. No problem. Cami, how are you feeling?” She only receives a groan in response, and shrugs her shoulders. “Fair,” she concedes, before steering us both back into the office where we sat yesterday.

   This time, though, guards flank us as we’re led down the long hallway, and we’re stopped a couple of yards before what I recognize as the two-way glass.

   “So here’s how this works.” Officer Loren is back, though she looks less harried, which I chalk up to not having been yelled at by Vanessa Nadal today. “All you have to do is verbally affirm, yes this is Jared Walker, or no this isn’t Jared Walker. He can’t see you, and there are guards at the door and in the room with him. Sound good?” Cami doesn’t respond, but laces her fingers through mine, squeezing tightly.

   “Can we have a second?” The officer looks like she’s about to say something when Vanessa steps in.

   “Of course. Take all the time you need.” I pull Cami off to the side, as “private” as one can get in a police station, and lift up her chin, forcing eye contact.

   “Hey. I know this sucks. So freaking much. But you’re so close. I believe in you.” Cami nods, giving my hand one last squeeze before leading me over to the window in the wall.

   There’s a sharp intake of breath as Cami lays eyes on her assaulter for the first time in years, and she falls silent for a second, studying him.

   He looks to be 19 or 20, and has sandy brown hair and a chiseled jawline that I recognize from all the boys with reputations like his at my high school. Just attractive enough to get away with being a manipulative asshole. His hands are cuffed behind his back, but he has a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he sits on a stool in the otherwise-empty interrogation room.

   “Yes. That’s-that’s him. That’s Jared. Walker.” Cami’s got a death grip on my left hand, but I’m impressed at how well she’s holding herself together. That is, until Jared turns so he’s facing what looks like a mirror from his view. He cocks his head and winks, and I know he can’t see us but it sends a shudder down my spine. Cami’s gone stiff, and I feel her hand slip out of mine before she brushes past me and hurtles down the hallway. Alarmed, I look at Vanessa, not knowing if her exit invalidates the whole thing. To my relief, Vanessa nods.

   “They got it. Go after her, Pip. You can take her home.”

   Abated, I take off down the hallway after the runaway, and find her in the corner by the elevators, light brown hair falling like a curtain over her face as she shies away from incoming footsteps.

   “Cam? It’s me. We can go home now. Do you want to go home?” Peering up at me through cracked fingers, Cami nods, accepting my arm wrapped tightly around her as we step into the elevator, leaving the 23rd floor of the justice department for what I desperately hope is the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was gonna be 17 chapters long, but I'm not concise and I'm an asshole and refuse to follow my outline. So, enjoy this chapter that is in fact nothing like it was supposed to be.


	15. mint chocolate chip ice cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been a while...my sincerest apologies and I promise I will not abandon this story :)

   “So I have good news and bad news.” Vanessa pauses to take a sip of her tea, waiting for Cami’s nod before continuing. “Good news is that he pled guilty and took a plea bargain. We don’t have to go to trial.” Cami lets out a huge sigh of relief at this. I know the threat of having to testify had been weighing heavy on her ever since the Jared incident, and it’s been getting harder and harder to wake her up from her nightmares. I move over next to Cami on the couch, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

   “And the bad news…?” Vanessa nods sharply.

    “The plea he took was two years, eligible for parole after 6 months.” Her voice is clipped, and I can tell she’s as angry as I am.

   “Are you fucking joking?” I’m trying to keep my voice calm for Cami’s sake, but I can feel the anger rising. “Six months for all the shit he did to her? She’s gonna be dealing with this for years.” Vanessa shoots me a warning glance, and I look over just in time to see Cami slip out from under my arm and dart into her room, the door closing firmly behind her. Vanessa places her hand on my arm as I start after her.

   “Pippa, maybe give her a second. This is a lot to process.” Vanessa’s about to impart more wisdom on me when her phone rings, and Lin needs her home because Disney wants to skype but Sebastian’s throwing a tantrum. Vanessa blows me a kiss and runs out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

   How could I have been so stupid as to yell? I should know more than anyone how Cami reacts to that. I should be able to keep her safe. Heart pounding, I slowly make my way to Cami’s room.

   “Cami?” I knock gently on her door, cracking it open when I don’t receive a response after a couple of seconds. “Can we talk?” Still no response, but I hear shuffling in the corner that’s hidden from my view by the giant bed Jasmine _insisted_ she needed. As I slowly make my way to the corner, Cami comes into view, sitting with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. I crouch down a safe distance away from her and assume a similar position. About a minute goes by without Cami panicking or pulling away from me, so I decide it’s time to talk.

   “What’s going on in your head?”

   “Should I be more upset about him only getting 2 years?” The way she’s firmly addressing her knees, I’m not sure if she wants an answer from me, and sure enough, she keeps talking. “You were so mad. But-that’s a long time. And he-he wanted to go to Duke. He’d always talk about it, and now he can’t. There’s no way.” This is such a switch from everything she’s told me about Jared, and I’m not sure how to react.

   “He hurt you. He put you through shit you should never have had to go through-” She finally lifts her head, eyes shining, and her voice is steely when she speaks.

    “You don’t think I know that? When I can’t fall asleep because I’m thinking about him, I just wish that he’d never gone that far. Not because of the shit it put me through, but because…because if he hadn’t then maybe I wouldn’t have had to leave and he’d still be in my life.” There’s a stunned silence after this, and while I’m fighting to keep my face neutral, Cami looks shocked at what just came out of her mouth.

  “It wasn’t all bad. He’d always sit with me at lunch-I usually never had anyone to sit with, cause I was always the new kid. And we’d go on bike rides together, and he memorized all the scientific names of the plants by the pond in the park. But now, you, and Jasmine, and everyone else talk about him like he’s such a terrible person, and I don’t know what’s real about my memories or whether it’s all a lie and I just-I feel so…I don’t know.” Her voice trails off at the end of this, but she’s still decidedly dry-eyed.

   I reach out my hand, which she grabs immediately, pulling our joined fingers up to her cheek and scooting me over as she does so.

   “So I’m not going to pretend to be able to understand all of that, because I know I can’t and there’s no point in me embarrassing both of us by trying.” Cami giggles a little, and I continue, encouraged. “But I do want to tell you that every single one of your feelings are valid. If you ever feel like Jasmine, or I, or anyone else is trying to tell you how to feel, well, I’m giving you permission to full-on bitch slap.” Another giggle, this time a little louder. “You’re doing a good job, Cam.” There’s a couple moments of comfortable silence, then Cami unfolds her legs and offers an olive branch.

   “Do you wanna make lunch?” She gets up, offering a hand to me and laughing when I groan about my old age as I stand slowly. We end up making big salads with salmon from last night’s dinner, and I almost cry when Cami stands up to clear her dishes and I see the empty bowl in her hand.

   I settle for chasing her around the apartment yelling about how proud I am, while she laughs hysterically and tries to avoid me, eventually giving up and flopping down beside me on the couch.

   “To be clear, I will injure you if you run around the theatre tonight announcing to everyone that I ate a salad.”

   “Hmm. Might be worth it. I’ll keep you updated.” I’m already composing a text to Jasmine in my brain, but Cami doesn’t need to know that.

   “You suck. I’m gonna shower.” Cami kisses me on the cheek, then stalks off to the bathroom, turning around briefly to shoot me what I assume is supposed to be a threatening look, though her inability to stop giggling isn’t helping her tough-guy persona.

   That night when we walk into the theatre, I turn to say something to Cami, only to find she’s no longer behind me. After a second, I hear her footsteps pattering up the stairs, and assume she’s run off to the ensemble girls’ dressing room. She’s been hanging out with Ariana a lot over the past week or so, and it’s not that I mind, but I miss her constant presence in my dressing room, helping me tease Jazzy about Anthony and stealing my stash of chocolate covered pretzels.

    I know that Ari’s closer to her age than I am, and it makes sense that Cami would feel comfortable around her, but I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy when I walk past the dressing room and hear peals of familiar laughter coming from inside of it.

   Besides a couple minutes during intermission, I don’t see Cam the rest of the time I’m at the theatre, and I can’t resist the urge to throw my arms around her as we walk out our semi-secret side door onto the street. Laughing, she pushes me off.

   “You good, Pip?”

   “I just missed you.” She shoots me kind of a weird look, but doesn’t say anything else, twining her fingers through mine as we head for the subway.

    The clock under the TV reads 1:47am when I blearily open my eyes on the couch, realizing I must have passed out at some point in our Gilmore Girls marathon, judging by the way Rory and Lorelei are still wise-cracking on the screen. I notice Cami’s no longer in the room and assume she’s gone to her room to sleep. However, as I walk past her door with the intention of moving to my bed, I see a light under the door and can hear the clack-clack of her keyboard.

   Opening the door slowly, I see Cami sitting on her floor surrounded by paper, furiously typing on her computer. She doesn’t notice me as I quietly come in, only looking up when I pluck the piece of paper she’s looking at off the floor. She starts to protest, batting at the paper as I hold it out of her reach, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes as she looks up at me.

   “Whatever this is, it can wait. It’s almost 2, girl.”

   “Oh.” Cami looks at the clock in the corner of her computer, and seems genuinely surprised that it’s gotten this late. “I just have a little more to do.” She grabs for the paper again, but I yank it away, pulling the computer off her lap as I do so.

   “Babe, you have a psychiatrist appointment at 10. It’s time to sleep.” I hit save on her word document, something about Macbeth’s fatal flaws, and close the computer, ignoring the pissed off look she gives me.

   “Pippa,” Cami’s voice is wavering in her attempts to keep it calm. “It’s fine. I’m going to finish and then go to sleep. I know my limits.” I can’t help but let out a little laugh at this, because for all of Cami’s brains, she is awful at remembering to do basic human things like eating or sleeping.

   “Okay, well you can finish tomorrow. Let’s go to bed.” I reach out to brush Cami’s hair out of her eyes and she recoils sharply, reaching over to wrestle her laptop out of my hands.

   “No, I’ll finish now.” She’s angry, but I know she needs to sleep.

   “Is it the nightmares? You can sleep with me if you want, I’ll stay-”

   “Leave me alone! You’re not my mom.” Immediately, I drop the paper I’m holding, stumbling back like I’ve been punched in the stomach. Tears start to flood my eyes and I retreat to my room, mumbling apologies at Cami as I leave.

   Once in the shelter of my room, I curl up on my bed and let the tears fall. All I want to do is call Renée, but it’s the middle of the night and she deserves all the sleep she can get with two kids.

   I can’t quite articulate what it is about Cami’s statement that’s made me so upset. She’s not wrong, I know she’s not my daughter, and that’s never the kind of relationship I intended for ours to be, so why do I feel like there’s a hand squeezing my chest that won’t let go?

   I can hear quiet sobs coming from Cami’s room, alternated with the sound of her voice, quiet enough that I can’t make out any individual words. She’s on the phone. _Probably with Ari,_ I think bitterly, not even trying to squash my jealous thoughts this time.

    I’m being petty and I know it, but I have no idea what to do in this scenario. It’s not like Cami’s my step-daughter. We have no obligatory connection beyond a piece of paper saying I’m her legal guardian. I’m reminded again of how unqualified I am to have this job, and I can’t help but think Cami might be better off somewhere where they know how to take care of her.

   “No.” I don’t quite mean to say this out loud, but my mental vehemence overpowers my thoughts and I’m a little surprised to hear my voice. I may have no idea what I’m doing, but I damn well know how to love Cami, something I don’t think she’s been given in any other home.

   Wiping my eyes with my sleeve, I stand up and move to the door, with the intention of going to Cami’s room, though I have absolutely no concrete plan. I’m startled when I open the door and walk directly into Cami, hand raised with the intention to knock. After we both get our bearings back, we both start to speak at once, then stop, settling into silence as we wait for the other to start talking again.

   Finally, I go back to my bed, patting the spot beside me, where Cami sits cautiously.

   “I’m sorry. I know I told you I wanted us to be equals, and I broke that rule completely tonight.” Not sure where to go next, I nod awkwardly, cutting myself off.

   “You didn’t. You’re right, I suck at being a human. And I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you, it’s just…today is-was- my mom’s birthday. So I guess I was just a little on edge.”

   I can’t think of a single thing I could say that would make this better, so I settle for grabbing a half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream and two spoons from the freezer.

   “You want?” Cami cracks a small smile, accepting the spoon I’m holding out to her. I wait until we’ve both taken a couple bites and are reclined on pillows until I speak again.

   “I promise I’m not trying to be your mom.” Cami takes another bite of ice cream, waiting for it to melt as she thinks.

   “I know. Maybe we could settle for cool older sister?”

    “You think I’m cool? I’ll take it.”

    “Don’t push it. Shit, it’s past 3.”

    “Eh, who needs sleep?” Cami grins, stifling a yawn, and rests her head on my shoulder.


	16. nagging doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been 10 years i am SO SORRY enjoy this mediocre chapter

  There are 18 chairs in this waiting room. The clock on the wall lags for about 2 seconds at the 11. Cami’s been with Dr. Reynolds for 42 minutes, and I’m starting to count the tiles on the ceiling in order to get my mind off of how worried I am. I’m at 39 when there’s a flash of red hair in the doorway and I see the woman who took Cami back, now 44 minutes ago, gesturing for me to join her.

   “Phillipa, I presume?” I shake her hand.

   “Pippa’s fine.”

    “Okay, Pippa. So if it’s all right with you, I’d like to talk to you and Cami together for our remaining time.” I agree, and follow her down a long hallway to where a door reveals Cami sitting on a grey couch, anxiously picking at her fingers.

   “Sit anywhere you like,” the doctor says, sweeping her arm vaguely at the furniture in the corner. After a second, I sit on the couch next to Cami, trying to contain my smile when she grabs my hand. Dr. Reynolds glances at our joined hands, then sits in a straight backed chair, grabbing a notepad off the table beside her.

   “So I want to preface everything I’m about to say with a quick disclaimer that I’ve only talked to Cami for about 45 minutes. If you guys decide this is something you want to continue, then I’d like to talk to you too, Pippa, and maybe have some sessions with both of you. Sound good?”

   After a moment, I realize Cami isn’t going to say anything, and I nod.

   “Great. So based on my initial evaluation, and the paperwork you filled out, I’d say you’re dealing with pretty severe anxiety and some PTSD, and the combination of the two of those is leading to some depression.” These words settle over us like an ominous cloud, and I feel Cami’s grip on my hand tighten as I nod again for the both of us.

   “Now I want to make it clear that these diagnoses are likely going to change, but I’d like to get you started on some medication, and you need to have a diagnosis in order for me to do that.”

   With more nodding, hand shaking, and appointment scheduling, we’re out the door, two prescriptions in hand.

   “You wanna go pick these up now?”

   “Sure, whenever.” Cami’s acting sullen, but I have a sneaking suspicion her short answers are an attempt to hold herself together while we’re in public.

   She keeps it together while we go to Rite-Aid to get her meds, and even shares a bag of chocolate covered pretzels with me on the subway ride home.

   Back in the kitchen, I decide it’s time. “So what did you think of Dr. Reynolds? Think her first name is Maria?”

   I get no response, understandably. It was a bit of a weak attempt. I’m filling up the tea kettle when Cami pipes up from her perch on the counter.

   “I’m not upset. Is that…is that okay?” I laugh a little, going over to cup Cami’s face in my hands.

   “Oh my god, yes. That is so okay. Sorry, I know I’ve been walking on eggshells, it’s just…” I trail off, not wanting to voice it, but Cami seems to understand.

   “Yeah, I get it. Being upset is kind of my MO. But-it’s like, for the past couple of years I’ve had all this stuff going on in my head, and it makes it really difficult to do, you know, anything. And I always wondered why I was so bad at, like, existing, because no one else around me seemed to have as much trouble as me with little, everyday things. But now, now that I know there’s a _reason_ for the, the gunk in my brain, maybe now it’ll be okay.” She looks concerned, and I realize there are tears rolling down my cheeks.

   “No no no, these are happy tears. Cause Cami, I think you’re right. You’re gonna be okay.” As she wipes off my mascara, Cami mutters something about role reversal that sends me to the floor with laughter, tears once again streaming down my cheeks as I struggle to catch my breath. The kettle whistles sharply and about a minute later, Cami joins me on the floor, handing me a mug.

   We’re forced to get up shortly, when we simultaneously realize we need to be walking out the door in ten minutes for Cami’s ballet class and my music clean up. Cami comes out of her room in the midst of putting her hair in a bun, wearing a leotard, tights, sweatpants, a tank top, a fleece, a vest and a scarf, and I can’t help but laugh.

    “I don’t know, think you have enough layers on?” Cami throws a bobby pin at me in response, though her mouth is also full of pins so what I’m sure is a snappy retort comes out as a grunt. We part ways at the subway, after I make her swear to text me when she gets to STEPS. As she reminds me constantly, she’s been taking the subway alone for years, but my “mother hen instincts,” as Renée calls them, are on full blast. I’m just leaving the station when she texts “here! Xo,” and I laugh because I can picture Cami’s mad dash from the train to class, because to her, you’re only on time if you’re ten minutes early.

   After two hours of rehearsal, Cami still hasn’t stuck her head in to let me know she’s here, and I assume she’s gone straight up to the dressing rooms to raid my snacks or something. When Lac gives us fifteen, I run upstairs, expecting to see her sprawled out on the couch, but the lights are off and the room’s deserted. I scan the other dressing rooms quickly then pull out my phone, hands shaking slightly. It rings twice, then there’s a click and I feel myself relax as I hear the familiar voice on the other end.  

   “Oh my god, Pippa, I’m so sorry, I meant to text you, but I totally forgot and-”

   “Are you okay? Where are you?”

   “Yes, yes. I’m good. I’m sorry, I ran into Ariana after class and we went to get coffee, and I just got distracted, I didn’t mean to-” My heart drops a little. I love Ari, but does it always have to be her?

   “Love, you’re fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re safe. I’ll see you later.”

   “Okay, bye Pip.”

   “Bye.” I set my phone down on the counter, then drop my head down next to it, embarrassed by the tears welling up in my eyes.

   “Have you seen my-hey, what’s going on?” Jasmine comes barreling in, her tone softening when she sees me with my head on the counter.

   “Is everything okay? Is Cami okay? Did she get hurt? Oh my god, is it-”

   “Cami’s fine.” My voice breaks and I know Jas hears it. She comes over and kneels down in front of me, placing a comforting hand on my knee. She hands me a tissue and after a couple of seconds, I join her on the floor, sliding under the makeup table, the way we always handle crises. Jasmine lets me cry it out for a couple of minutes, and when I find my voice again I address my knees, too ashamed to look at her.

   “-it’s just, I feel like such a shitty person, because of course Cami can have other people she’s close to. It just hurts, but I can’t say anything to her because I sound so selfish.” Jasmine starts to rub my back, gathering her thoughts.

   “I can’t imagine how much this is hurting you. You and Cami are so, so close, and it sucks to feel like she’s ditching you, especially after-”

   “Do not bring him up.” My tone is harsh, but Jasmine understands, and holds up a hand in abject surrender.

    “Okay, okay. So it hurts. Yes. But I can promise you, as an objective third party, no one’s ever gonna be able to beat the bond that you have with Cam.” I glance at her, and she can clearly see the apprehension on my face.

    “I’m serious, Pippa. Even from the first couple times I met her, it’s clear that you two have something special. You’re the only one who can calm her down from a panic attack. You’re the one she opened up to about the abuse. God, I’ve seen the two of you have full conversations through eye contact! She trusts you at this incredible level, and no one is gonna take that away from you, I promise.”

   Jasmine takes the tissue that I’ve been shredding out of my hand and uses a clean one to blot at my face.

   “Eh, that’ll do. Splash some water on your face.” She glances at her watch. “Do that fast though, we gotta go.”

  We head back to rehearsal, and I will myself to believe what Jasmine said to me. But the walls have ears in the Richard Rogers, and Renée drags me into a corner as soon as we come offstage from Nonstop that evening.

    “I’m fine.” I try to head this off early, but it’s a weak attempt and the look Renée shoots me tells me that she can see right through me.

    “Listen. I get it, she’s your baby.”

    “She’s not-”

    “Pippa, call her whatever you want, she’s your kid, and she is the most important person in your life right now. Yes?”

   I nod, not trusting myself to speak right now.

   “Mhmm. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, like you’re the only thing she can trust in the whole world. Not at Ari, not at anyone else. At you. She loves you so much, Phillipa. She’s not going anywhere.”

   I pull Renée into a hug, relaxing at the familiar smell of lavender. Renée’s a mom, she understands this. She wouldn’t lie to me…right?


	17. Any particular reason why you're baking at 1:30 in the morning?

   I’m fast asleep when a resounding crash from the kitchen jolts me awake. Sleepily grabbing my phone off the bedside table, my heartbeat picks up when I realize it’s 1:30am. Unplugging and grabbing the lamp off my bedside table, I creep towards the kitchen, gripping my makeshift weapon tightly. Peering around the corner into the kitchen, I laugh out loud at the site I’m met with. Cami, hair messily pulled back and shirt covered in flour, is sitting on the floor, tongue sticking out with concentration, busily mixing something in a big bowl.

    “Shit, did I wake you up?” She looks up when she hears my laughter.

    “Little bit.”

    “I dropped a bowl…” Smiling sheepishly, she gestures towards the wooden spoon in her right hand.

   “I see. Anything broken?” She shakes her head. “Great. Any particular reason why you’re baking and dropping bowls at 1:30 in the morning?”

   “Couldn’t sleep.”

   “Might be the meds? Dr. Reynolds said something about-”

   “Yeah, maybe.” I decide to drop it, not pushing for any more details. It’s only been a couple of days, but I’m hoping the meds are helping her. I wouldn’t know, since she shuts down any time I bring them up, but that’s not for lack of trying on my part.

   “What are you making?”

   “Cookies.” She sizes me up for a second, then pats the floor beside her. “Oatmeal chocolate chip. It’s-it _was_ my mom’s recipe.”

   Reaching into the bowl, I swipe my finger through the dough before Cami can swat my hand away.

   “Dude. This is fantastic. Your mom taught you how to bake?”

   “Yeah. She didn’t make them very often, but when she did she’d make dozens and dozens. We’d give them to all my teachers and neighbors. Everyone loved her cookies.” She stirs through the dough a couple more times, deep in thought. “I haven’t made them since-since they died.”

   Though my heart is breaking for her, this is the longest Cam has ever talked to me about her parents, which I know is a major step for her, both in finding closure and in trusting me.

   “You were ten, right?”

   “Nine. I went into the system when I was 10. I’d been living with my aunt for a year, but she was really busy with work and didn’t have time for a screwed up kid. So.”

   I sit closer to her, allowing her to rest her head on my shoulder.

   “Reminder: you’re not screwed up. Hey, Cam?”

   “Mhm?”

   “How did they, what happened? Only if you want to, that is.” I backpedal quickly, worried about ruining the gift she’d just given me.

   “No, it’s okay. I-just give me a second.”

   “Take all the time you need.” I gently take the bowl out of her hands, moving towards the cabinet to grab a couple of cookie sheets and the parchment paper. Cami stands up to join me, handing me two spoons. After I line the cookie sheets, we start scooping dough onto the sheets, Cami popping about every third spoonful into her mouth. There are about 3 rows of cookies on the sheets when Cami starts talking quietly, remaining focused on her task.

    “October of 2008, dad got sick. He was never really sick, so I kind of figured he’d get over it, be back to normal soon. But he never did. Did a good job pretending, though. I never knew anything was wrong. Until, a couple days after Christmas, mom went to wake him up, and she couldn’t. He had a fever, like 104. We went to the hospital. Some kind of viral infection with an impossible name, that’s what the doctors told us. He never really got better after that. I don’t think he was conscious at all in the week before he-”

   She cuts herself off abruptly, noticing the tray is full. “I already preheated the oven, can you stick them in?” I nod and grab an oven mitt, and if her voice is a little more fragile than usual, neither of us acknowledge it. When the timer’s set, Cami hops up on the counter, a socked foot tapping out a rhythm on the cabinet below.

    “Mom was never really…the same. After dad died. She didn’t come to the funeral, wouldn’t get out of bed. I sat with my math teacher. People came by all the time for the first couple months, brought baked ziti and lemon squares and the same apologies over and over.”

   She’s gazing off into space, eyes glazing over, and I move to stand beside her, offering myself as an anchor to the present, a reminder that all these horrible things are in her past. Clutching my hand gratefully, Cami continues.

   “After, I don’t know, six months? The sympathy food ran out. Dad’s work was still sending money, but mom didn’t go to work. She wouldn’t leave the house. I walked to school, or my teachers drove me, but they didn’t know what was going on. No one did, mom didn’t want them to know. It was only me. I was the only one. I should’ve-should’ve _done_ something. Told someone.”

   I’m beginning to regret pushing Cami to talk, as her voice rises in pitch and emotion.

   “Cam? Did your mom commit suicide?” I cringe as the sentence leaves my mouth, but at this point she just needs to finish so she can cry it out.

   “I came home from school one day, fourth grade. She didn’t respond when I came in the door, so I thought maybe she was asleep. She’d take sleeping pills sometimes, that the doctor gave her. But I-I went upstairs and she was in the bathtub. There was, I didn’t-so much blood.”

   At this point she breaks down entirely, sobbing into my shoulder.

   “Cami, baby, you can’t blame yourself. You were _so_ young. You had no idea-you shouldn’t have had that responsibility.” I’m stroking her hair when the timer beeps, and she shoots up, shrugging off my hands.

   “I’m gonna check on them.” A couple of seconds later, she pulls the tray out, smiling victoriously. “Perfect”

   I help her get the tray on a cooling rack, then wrap my arms around her from behind, placing a kiss on her cheek. “You know how much I love you, right?”

   She snuggles into me, nestling her head into my neck. “I love you. Now try a cookie.”

   I do, which burns my mouth and my fingers, causing me to yelp and drop the offending baked good.

   “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve wasted a perfectly good cookie.” Snickering, I pick the –now much cooler–cookie up and pop it into my mouth, to howls of protest from Cam.

   “Hey, the floor is clean. I should know, I clean it.” Conceding, Cami piles some cookies on a plate as I pour us two glasses of milk, and we head to the couch. Stifling a yawn, Cami insists that she’s still not tired, and steals the remote to turn on Parks & Rec. We’re not quite an episode in when she slumps over dead asleep, and I catch the slipping plate just in time.

   Looking at the sleeping girl beside me, a thought that’s been running through my mind for weeks finally surfaces to the forefront, and I grab my phone out of my pocket, opening to my messages with Jas.

   _Hey, can you get to the theatre 15 min early tomorrow? There’s something I want to talk to you about._

   I get a reply a couple of seconds later.

   _Absolutely. Everything ok?_

  Smiling in spite of myself, I type a response.

   _Yeah, actually. Everything’s great._

   I make it through approximately half another episode of the show before I pass out too, deciding beds are overrated as I curl around Cami, wondering for the umpteenth time how someone who’s been through half of the trauma she has could’ve possibly turned out this wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes, I suck at updating. feel free to send hate mail and/or rotten fruit  
> I HAVE A PLOT WORKED OUT I PROMISE


	18. It can't hurt, right?

   “You’re serious about this?” Jasmine’s tone is weighty, but a wide smile stretches across her face.

   “Yeah, I am.” I reply. “I know it hasn’t been that long, but I just have this–this feeling, you know?” Jasmine squeezes my hand.

   “And you’re not the only one. We can all see the connection between you two. But still, it’s a big step.”

   “What’s a big step?” Daveed, eavesdropper extraordinaire, plops on the couch beside Jasmine. Jas looks at me for approval, and I nod.

   “Pippa’s gonna adopt Cami!” She squeals.

   “Well, maybe. I still have to ask her.” Daveed chuckles at this.

   “Dude, she’s gonna say yes. Man, this is fucking great news!”

    “Great news? Guys, Pippa has great news!” I recognize Carleigh’s voice in the hallway, rolling my eyes as she, Emmy, and Oak pile in.

   “Well, now that we’re _all_ here,” I sigh, shooting glares at my nosy friends, “if you all must know, I’m thinking about asking Cami if I can adopt her.”

   The room is suddenly awash with noise. People are shouting questions at me, hugging, and I think Oak is crying.

   “BUT,” Jasmine’s belt placement quiets everyone in a second, and they sit down quietly. “Cami does not yet know about this, so we’re all going to keep our mouths shut. Yes?”

   There’s quiet murmuring and some enthusiastic nods as Jasmine scans the room accusatorily, and I’m so grateful for her announcement, because that had fully slipped my mind and the last thing I needed was someone ruining this for me.

   Carleigh gets up to close the door, turning around with a panicked look on her face.

   “GUYS, she’s coming.” She whispers loudly. There’s a couple of seconds of pure mayhem, and when Cami walks in the door, she’s trying to keep her giggles under control.

   “Um, why was there just a mass exodus out of your dressing room?” I stall for a second, relieved when I glance at the clock on the wall.

   “Almost half hour. Tommy’s coming tonight, we’re trying to avoid his wrath.”

   “Understandable.” If she’s suspicious, she’s doing a stellar job hiding it, and settles onto the couch without any further questions.

   “Hey, Pippa?”

   “What’s up?” I ask, turning to face her.

   “My ballet shoes are kind of falling apart, and also kind of grey, I was just wondering, could I maybe get a new pair?” She’s stumbling over her words a little, and I realize that this might be the first time she’s ever asked me to buy her something.

   “Absolutely. We can run by the Capezio store tomorrow?”

   “Sounds good. Thank you, so much.” I smile, turning back to my makeup and feeling even more confident in my decision to permanently make Cami a part of this family.

   After our first show, Lin steals Cami to take her to his favorite coffee shop, and Jasmine and I head to 5th Avenue. Twenty-five minutes later, we’re back on the train, this time with a blue box carefully nestled in my backpack.

   “She’s gonna love it, I promise.” Jasmine can clearly sense how nervous I am, and is trying desperately to assure me and keep me calm.

   “But what if–” Jasmine chuckles, covering my hand with hers.

   “It’ll be perfect.”

   That night after the show, Cami and I sit on the couch, munching on the few cookies that weren’t gobbled up by hungry theatre people today. There’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy playing, but neither of us are paying very much attention. Cami’s on her phone, and my thoughts haven’t left my conversation with Jasmine this morning.

   I look over at Cami, who’s buried in her texts. From here, I can just catch a glimpse of extraordinarily long bubbles of conversation, and my curiosity gets the best of me. Leaning over with the pretense of snagging another cookie, I sneak a look at her screen. Unfortunately, I’m not as slick as I thought. Cami notices my wandering eyes and presses her screen to her chest. Her quick reaction means the only thing I saw was who she was texting. Ari. Of course. And finally, something comes tumbling out.

   “Could you at least pretend not to trust Ari more than me?”

   I know it’s a mistake as soon as the words leave my mouth, and my hand flies to my lips as Cami’s eyes rapidly fill with tears, even as she tries to blink them away.

  “I–I’m sorry.” Her voice is broken, and whether consciously or not, she pulls away when I reach towards her.

   “Cam, I didn’t–I never meant to,” I trail off, unsure how to fix this, or if I can at all. She stares at me through watery eyes for a second, then pushes herself off the couch, looking worried.

   “No, I actually have to tell you something…something I should’ve told you a while ago. But first, um, can you promise me something?”

   I nod earnestly, hoping this means she still trusts me.

   “If I–when I tell you this. You have to promise you won’t get mad, or try to hurt me.” A look at her fearful eyes tells me she’s serious, and I sink onto the couch, as far away from where Cami’s standing as possible.

   “I swear to you; I will _never_ hurt you. I mean it, Cam. Is–is that okay?” She nods, still pacing anxiously, fiddling with her phone.

   “I–I’m…I–sorry, I don’t know how to say it.” I haven’t seen her this scared in weeks, and all of my instincts are screaming to wrap her up tight and never let go.

  “Take all the time you need. You’re doing so well.”

  There’s a couple of seconds of silence, and then Cami takes a deep breath.

   “I’m gay, Pippa.” She takes a step away from me, shielding herself off from me. “That’s why I’ve been talking with Ari so much. Because I thought she would…understand, and I was so scared. Of telling you, of telling anyone.”

   It takes me a second to process what Cami’s telling me, and I’m mentally smacking myself in the back of the head because _of course_ , how could I be so stupid? We’ve all met Jill, Ari’s girlfriend. All the whispered conversations and coffee dates that I thought meant Cami was slipping away from me finally make sense. She was trying to work up the courage to come out to me, to reveal a part of herself that she’s probably suppressed and hated for years.

   “Pippa? Could you…say something?” I snap back to reality, noticing Cami still coiled up with fear, tears running down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave, I can go pack my stuff now, I–”

    “Cami. Cami, Cami, Cami. Stay here. You’re not going anywhere. Can you sit down?” She promptly plops down on the floor, which wasn’t quite what I meant, but hey. I move over to her, sitting down a couple of feet away.

   “First of all, I want to apologize. For making you feel bad for hanging out with Ari, but mostly for making you come out to me now, before you were ready. That should’ve been completely your decision. However, that said–hey, can you look at me? It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

    “You’re not?” Blinking through tears, Cami looks me straight in the face.

    “Absolutely not. Love, I don’t care if you want to date boys, or girls, or neither, or-or penguins. There is _nothing_ you could come out to me as that would make me love you _any_ less. Do you hear me?” Nodding, Cami cracks a watery smile, hesitantly reaching a hand out to me and laughing when I pull her into my lap, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

   “Cam? I actually have something I wanted to tell you too. Well, ask you.” I stand up, shrugging her off, and grab my bag from my room, taking this afternoon’s purchase out of it. I take a couple big breaths as I head back out to the living room.

   “Okay, so when I came to do that masterclass with Graham-Windham, I figured it would just be a way to spend my morning. I didn’t really expect to get anything out of it beyond the satisfaction that you guys had had fun, but every time I’ve thought about that day in the past week I’ve had to pinch myself. What are the odds that out of the millions of the people in this city, you’d walk into Ripley-Grier that day? I know that I haven’t known you for very long, and that you’ve been living here for even less time, but I just have this–this feeling.Cam, you’re basically my favorite person in the whole world. You are intelligent and hilarious and so, so strong, and I’m so lucky to know you. I love you beyond belief, and I want you to be around for a long time. So, what I wanted to ask you. Can I–that is, would it be okay if–I want to adopt you.”

   Somewhere in the depths of my ramble, we’ve both started to cry, and Cami pulls me down to the floor with her, taking both of my hands in hers.

   “I–Pippa, I just, Yes, of course!” She dissolves into a puddle of tears, both of us crying too hard to form cohesive sentences. After a couple of seconds, I sit up with a start.

   “Wait! I have something for you.” I hand her the box, and she gasps at the Tiffany’s logo, trying to push it back at me, but I refuse and tell her to open it.

    The lid lifts to reveal a simple silver chain with two interlocking silver discs dangling from it. Looking up, Cami reaches a hand towards my chest.

   “Does it match yours?” I nod, reaching into my shirt to pull out the necklace I always wear, and grinning uncontrollably at the smile that spreads across Cami’s face.

   “Turn around, I’ll put it on you.” She hands me the box and spins, lifting up her hair.

   “My parents gave me this when I graduated from high school. They told me I deserved something this nice, now that I was off to become a ‘real member of functioning society’. I think you deserve something this nice just for being you, but maybe you could see it as becoming a real, legal member of my family? Functional or otherwise.”

   Cami turns around when I release the clasp, smoothing her hair back down over the chain in the back.

   “Wow. I–Pippa, I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on me and for jumping through all the ridiculous hoops that it took to get me to trust you. Thank you for giving me a home, and for being my family. I love you, so much.”

   I pull her close to me, her necklace cold against my collarbone.

   “Just so you know, I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me you’re family. But it can’t hurt, right?” Though I can’t see her expression, I can imagine the smile unfurling on her face, and I feel her nod.

   “Of course not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS sad news: this is the penultimate chapter of the Uncanny Accuracy of Fate. I think I've put these two through enough.


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we get a new PoV!

   “Where do you want me to put these?” Jasmine’s voice pipes up from behind a teetering stack of boxes, and I quickly rush over and grab the one on the top before the whole pile collapses.

    “Wherever,” I gesture aimlessly around the tiny room. “It’s not like you have too many options.” Jasmine shrugs, sets the boxes down, and comes over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders from behind me.

   “I can’t believe you’re in college. No, I must be imagining this. You’re too young. Not gonna happen.”

   “Okay, we’ll have time for sappy stuff later. I promise.” I laugh, gently shrugging off her arms. “Where’s Pippa?”

   “I’m here! And this-” She throws a pillow at me, then puts a lamp on the floor, “is the last of it.” Looking around the dorm room, I can’t help but chuckle at the sheer volume of boxes crammed in each corner.

   “You guys realize I’m sending some of this back with you, right? You forgot to calculate enough room for me to turn around.” They grin at me sheepishly, and I sigh, glad that my application for a single dorm came through, otherwise I’d have to deal with a very frustrated roommate.

   “I’m gonna go check out the bathroom scenario, I’ll leave you two to fight this one out.” Jasmine blows us a kiss then disappears down the hall, leaving Pippa looking out the window.

   “It’s not a bad view, not as good as yours at home, but…” She trails off, then gasps. “Oh! I have something for you!”

   “Pippa, you don’t have to,” but she’s already digging through the box closest to her. I know whatever she gives me will be incredibly kind and thoughtful, but that’s what I’m worried about. This past week, people have been showing up at our door nonstop, bringing dorm decorations, handwritten notes, and in Lin’s case, an ipod loaded with playlists for every possible scenario or mood.

    “Use the party one. The teens are gonna love it,” he’d assured me.

   It wasn’t that I minded them giving me gifts. Living with Pippa had finally gotten me used to their constant doting. It was more that my tendency towards being overly emotional meant that every time someone had dropped by, the interaction morphed into a 20 minute crying/reliving-every-interaction-we’d-ever-had fest.

    “If this makes me cry, I swear.” She ignores me, grunting as she rips the tape off the top of a box, and crowing with glee when she finds what she’s been looking for. As she hands the gift to me, I can see that it’s a giant picture frame, filled with 12 or 13 photos.

   The first one is a group photo of Pippa, Morgan, and the group of us from the masterclass, almost 2 years ago. Looking at the picture, I barely recognize myself. I’m painfully skinny, and I can see the sadness behind my eyes as I think back on my years in the system.

   Pulling myself away from that painful memory, I notice the next picture is of Pippa and I on the couch in her dressing room holding mugs of tea, which I recognize as being from around the time I opened up to her about the abuse I was dealing with. Looking back, I still have no idea why Pippa wanted to take me in. I was nothing but an anxious and scared teenager, unlovable in my own eyes.

   “Hey.” I’m jolted out of my trip down memory lane by Pippa putting her arm around me. “I can hear you thinking all the way across the room.”

   “Oh. Yeah, sorry.”

   “Don’t be.” She points at a photo of the two of us hugging outside the Richard Rogers. “I love this one.”

   I instantly identify the photo. Taken July 9th, it was the day of Pippa’s last Hamilton show. That morning, I’d woken up to her crying in the kitchen, and as I’d comforted her, I remember the pride that had washed over me. I could be the strong one, and guide Pip through this like she’d supported me through too many teary nights to count.

   Browsing the rest of the frames, I see snaps from the day she finalized my adoption, the first time she took me to Illinois to meet her parents, the day I got accepted into NYU’s international studies program, and others detailing the fairy-tale life I’ve been living since I met Pippa. On a whim, I pull myself away from the photos and turn to her.

   “I don’t say this enough. I don’t think I could. But thank you.” The words are barely out of my mouth when she tackles me onto the bed, tickling me while she reminds me that (she claims) I’ve helped her just as much as she’s helped me, and that I don’t get to thank her for that. When I finally call uncle, we collapse on the bed and she sighs.

   “I can’t believe this is finally here. I’m gonna miss you so much.”

   “I’ll see you on Thursday for dinner! And I’m a ten-minute subway ride away,” I remind her.

   “Yeah, but ten minutes isn’t right down the hall.” She wipes away a fake tear. “Seems like just yesterday I was changing your diapers and watching you take your first steps.”

   “Get out of here.” I shove her gently, and she sits up, looking more serious now.

   “But seriously, Cami. Just because I’m not around all the time doesn’t mean I’m any less here for you. College is–it can be–a big adjustment, and I just want to make sure…” She trails off as I nod, letting her know we’re on the same page.

   I wish I could just brush off her over-protectiveness, but I hate that I know she’s right. Therapy and a stable home have lessened the frequency of my panic attacks and helped me build healthy coping strategies, but Pippa and I both know I’m far from fully recovered.

   “And of course I believe in you indefinitely, and I know you can do anything you want to do, but… if it all gets to be too much…you can always come home. College will always be here. You know that, right?”

   “I’m not gonna drop out.” This comes out colder than I anticipate it, and I quickly backtrack. “I mean–of course I know you’re always here, and I love you for that. But I think–maybe this is something I have to do on my own.”

   She smiles, and I can see the tears welling up in her eyes as I feel the ones threatening to leak down my face.

   ‘God, you’re so grown up. When the hell did that happen?” She embraces me, and we’re both crying when Jasmine reappears.

   “Hey! What did we say about being sappy? Cam, you’re breaking your own rule. I’m ashamed. She comes over to the bed and puts a sticky note on my thigh.

   “This is your RA’s number. Her name is Catherine. I talked to her, told her you were a little nervous.” She increases her volume over my protests that in fact, I’m the least nervous out of everyone in this room. “Reach out to her if you need anything. Well, us too. But she doesn’t have to take the fucking Q train to get to your room.” She looks around the room, one eyebrow raised.

   “Okay. Let’s get this place in order.” Blasting Lin’s ‘get hype’ playlist, that’s exactly what we do.

   Forty-five minutes later, the bed is made, posters hung, and the only injury sustained was Jasmine’s own fault for dropping my anthropology textbook on her toe.

   Jasmine leaves shortly after we finish, to go rehearse for her 54 Below performance next month, but not before wrapping me in a giant hug and threatening death if I don’t reply to her texts.

   Pippa looks at her phone, then back at me.

   “Do you want to grab lunch?”

   “I’m fine, not hungry.” She looks at me suspiciously, and I hold up my hands in surrender. “I ate before we left, remember?” She nods, then cocks her head, looking at me sideways.

  “I suppose lunch is just prolonging the inevitable, right?” I nod, laughing a little.

   “Orientation’s in a couple hours anyways, and you have to make call.”

   “I’ll be fine,” she waves my concern away. “Come here.”

   Pulling me close, she rubs a hand up and down my back. “I love you so much.”

   No longer able to control my emotions, my voice cracks as I reply.

   “I love you, Pippa.”

   After at least five more hugs and a promise that I’ll call her tonight, she leaves, and I begin browsing the bookshelf along the wall, straightening up when I find the book I’m looking for.

   Before turning to a blank page, I flip back to the front, noting that the second entry is dated only a couple days after Danielle landed me in the hospital.

   _It’s late. It’s 3:30 and I can’t sleep, but I don’t want to go wake up Pippa because if she knows how screwed up I am then she won’t want me anymore. It’s only a matter of time. But for now, I’ve found the most incredible group of people I’ve ever met. Pippa, and Lin, and Jazzy and Anthony, and Renee and Oak, they’ve let me in. I feel welcome around them, included. That’s not usually how it works._

   I have to stop reading at this point, because my scrawled penmanship is bringing back too many memories of nights like that. Feeling hopeless and knowing I had someone there, but being too afraid to reach out. Instead, I turn to a blank page in the back, noting that I’ll need to get a new journal soon.

   _Tomorrow’s my first day of college! Honestly, if you’d told 15-year-old me that I’d be at NYU in three years, I wouldn’t have believed you. I didn’t believe in much of anything back then. Looking back at these photos, it’s like seeing a whole different version of myself, one I’m not sure I recognize. And it’s not just the long hair and scarily skinny arms. When I look in the mirror now, I can see some good. I see a girl who’s smart, who likes to dance, and who’s memorized the entirety of season 5 of Parks &Rec._

_Pippa claims that’s what she saw in me all along, but I can’t buy that. I think she took a chance on me, one that ~~she probably shouldn’t have~~  I’m grateful for more and more every day. Trusting her wasn’t easy for me, and I’m not sure trusting new people ever will be. But somehow, Pippa got through. I think it’s fair to say that I wouldn’t be here without her, though whether that’s in this dorm or in the world I’m not sure. She pulled triple duty as a mom, a big sister, and a best friend to me, three things I’d never had before her. _

_I’m not sure I believe in God, but Renee told me one time that you don’t have to, so long as you believe in something. I don’t think it was random luck that Pippa and I found each other. I’m not sure who or what I can credit with that, but let’s call it fate. Someone or something knew that I needed her, and maybe that she needed me a little bit too._

   _I lied a little earlier. I am a little scared, and a lot nervous. But it’s a good nervous. For maybe the first time in my life, the fact that I don’t know what the future holds is exciting, not terrifying. No matter what happens, I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay, because it seems like fate’s on my side._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! It's over. Whaaattt? I've been writing this ish for 4 months, wild. (That's not actually that long but)  
> thanks for dealing with my inability to update consistently and for all your wonderful comments!  
> I love you all! xo


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